Complicated
by Thestral89
Summary: A continuation of 'misbehaving'. Not as raunchy but digs deeper into Sherlock/Molly's complicated relationship. Sherlock struggles with drug use, Molly struggles with one of Sherlock's weird adversaries. Set after John and Mary's wedding and the time line may be slightly off but you wont want to miss this more action based story! Its been a long time coming! *Contains sex/violence*
1. Chapter 1

It had been about a month since they had picked Molly's things up from her old flat. John and Mary had tied the knot, found out about Mary's pregnancy, and Sherlock had kept a hawk like eye for Tom to start something else with them…but much to his dismay, he had remained out of the picture. How he would so like to wrap his hands around that little punk's neck…he remembered the pair of panties he had found while helping Molly pack and it only made him angrier. He had hidden them in a bag in his top drawer to keep in case he needed to use them against Tom one day…or maybe if Molly found out and wanted proof of the truth. Either way he just couldn't throw good evidence like that away.

He pushed those angry thoughts out of his mind. He had more important matters pressing him at the moment. A Lady Smallwood had recently gotten his attention and suddenly he had a shot at taking down the one man who disgusted him more than any other human being on the planet. Charles Magnusson. He apparently had some letters that meant a great deal to this poor woman, but he knew it wouldn't be as simple as asking him to give them back. If he had the letters, he had a reason for it. He needed blackmail on this woman. And Sherlock knew the one way to get those documents out of his hand was to get him interested in someone else. So Sherlock decided to make that person of interest, himself.

He had gotten in touch with some old friends of his…if you could call them friends. They were what most would call, a bad crowd. The meth heads and druggies of London. And right now Sherlock's best bet in taking this man and his great empire down. He hadn't told Molly about his plan. How could he? She would absolutely murder him if she found out about him using again. She had helped him recover the last time and certainly had been more kind then he deserved, but this time it would not be so pleasant…

So instead he used the excuse he was on a very highly secretive case and it could put her life in danger if he spoke about it, which wasn't a lie, and she didn't ask much questions.

He was, at the moment, throwing old torn clothes on so as not to stand out from the crowd of users he was going to be within a few minutes. He pulled an old jacket on and threw his phone in his pocket and made to leave when Molly came walking in.

"Why are you home so early?" He asked, taken by surprise. She wasn't due home for another two hours.

"Nice to see you too," She said moodily making her way to the couch where she laid down and covered her face with her hands. Sherlock stared at her a moment. Obviously she wasn't feeling well. She was pale and appeared to be a bit disheveled looking.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock attempted to be nice, "Want me to make you a cup before I leave?" He asked.

She glanced up at him, a bit surprised at his generosity.

"Umm…no that's ok. Sorry I snapped…I just really don't feel good," She said quietly.

Sherlock walked over to her and grabbed a blanket off of the back of the couch and gently covered her with it, kneeling down to her level. She turned and faced him, still laying.

Now that he had seen her up close, he could tell how truly miserable she looked. She reached up and touched his face.

"You look like a bum," She said grinning.

"That's the point." Sherlock grinned at her.

"Well then you're doing a fine job Mr. Detective."

Sherlock planted a small kiss on her warm forehead and stood back up headed for the door.

"How long will you be gone for tonight?" Molly asked.

"What day is it?" Sherlock asked.

"Friday…thank God." Molly sighed.

"Don't expect me back until tomorrow"

Molly looked a bit disappointed but knew better than to argue with him.

"Please be careful…and don't do anything stupid. I'll keep my phone nearby if you need me."

"That's why I keep you around," Sherlock said grinning and leaving the flat.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock walked down the street into the cool evening air and headed towards 'the house'. He had to admit…he was a bit anxious. Doing drugs took away from his abilities, and he didn't feel safe unless he could deduce his surroundings. That and there was always a nagging voice in his mind telling him he would get hooked again all for a case. But this case warranted such rash actions that he knew he had to do it.

He made sure to keep his face uncovered so people could see it was him clear as day walking towards this known drug house. He wanted people to see him and the sooner his drug habit got to the papers, the better. He needed Magnusson to think he could black mail him with this information. That was the whole point behind this.

So he continued to walk, getting a few strange looks the closer he got to this house. Good. When he finally arrived, he heard loud music playing from inside. He sighed. He hated loud music. It was sensory overload for him. The sooner he could get these drugs into his veins the better, then he would not care about all these disgusting people and loud music.

He knocked on the door and Billy Wiggins answered.

"Oi, Shezza, I was wonderin if I'd see you er'e tonight!"

"Wouldn't miss this party!" he said a bit over enthusiastically. But Billy didn't seem to care, he let Sherlock pass and he made his way into the large living room where some people were dancing wildly, some people were smoking and seemed to be stuck to the couch, and others were pulling tourniquets around their arms and sticking needles in. That was where he immediately headed for.

"Shezzaaaaa…" The biggest druggie, Jamie, there called out at he sat down on the floor beside them.

"The usual, buddy?"

Sherlock nodded. Obviously he had been doing this for too long. He hoped he wouldn't have to for much longer… Sherlock pulled out his own sterilized needle he had taken from the hospital and drew the liquid up into the syringe. His body shook with anticipation. He tied a tourniquet around his arm and pushed the needle into a vein. As he pushed the contents into his blood stream, his body relaxed, and he pulled the tourniquet off his arm. His thoughts instantly became blurry, his mind in bliss. He recapped the needle, put it in his coat pocket to dispose of properly later, and stood to go over and sit on the couch with the pot smokers. He had to hold onto the wall to get there, but he made it and sat in the middle of these people. They smelled, but his brain told him 'who cares'. He sunk back into the couch and closed his eyes, simply enjoying the high. Someone nudged him and passed a joint to him where he took a long deep drag, his lungs filling with the calming smoke.

He was now so calm and relaxed he could care less about the music or any of these people. But after less than an hour, his high was wearing off rather quickly because of his continuous use the last week. He made his way back to Jamie and uncapped another clean syringe.

"More," Sherlock said to Jamie.

"You sure?" Jamie said.

Who was this troubled teen to ask his choices in life?

"Yes, I'm sure, now fill the damn syringe," Sherlock blurted out throwing some money at the kid's feet. "I need more…I want to get this guy…once and for all…"

"Ok, buddy…I hope you know what you're doing," He said and refilled the syringe.

"Thank you." Sherlock said irritably, and shot up again.

He sat there a few minutes letting the drugs coarse through his veins. Next thing he knew, his head was hitting the dirty wooden floor behind him and his vision went black.

Molly laid on the couch watching television just to have some noise in the quiet apartment. She heard Mrs. Hudson rustling around probably cleaning the kitchen or something downstairs. It had been maybe three hours since Sherlock left. Molly was feeling a bit better now, just weak. She was just starting drift off when her phone began vibrating. She picked it up and looked at the number. That's weird, it was the hospital. She answered it expecting to get in trouble for clocking out early today.

"Hello?" She answered sleepily.

"Molly?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Molly, its Cindy." Molly knew this lady worked in the ER of the hospital as she had eaten lunch with her more than a few times. She was a sweet, older lady, and a seasoned nurse.

"What's up?" Molly asked, the uneasiness in this lady's voice was not normal. She knew something was wrong.

"You need to get down here…that Sherlock guy you've told me about, a bunch of druggies just brought him to the ER and he's in a terrible state, he's unconscious and were having a hard time getting a blood pressure, Please hurry."

Before Molly could even hang up the phone she was throwing her shoes on and grabbing her coat. She threw her phone in her pocket, grabbed her keys to the flat and ran out of the door. She was able to hail a cab rather quickly, thank God, and she climbed in, stumbling over her words to tell the driver where to go.

Her heart pounded so hard in her chest she thought it may bust out of her ribs at any moment. She pulled some money out of her pocket and quickly gave it to the man, she was sure she over paid him but she didn't wait for her change, instead running into the doors of the emergency department and looked around.

"Molly! This way, come here, love," Cindy called, Molly ran towards her.

"Where is he?" Molly asked at once.

"They are working on him right now, come here," She ushered, "Come and sit in here with me and wait." Molly knew this was not a good thing if someone was 'working on him'. She almost protested, but knew she could trust this kind lady so she came with her into a private sitting room they use to tell patients bad news.

"Tell me everything, Cindy, please." Molly said, tears now beginning to form in her eyes since the adrenaline was wearing off.

"I don't know anything for sure dear, I heard a commotion in the lobby so I looked to see what was going on, there were about three young men who we get quite frequently for overdosing and drug problems, and they were dragging Sherlock in and he looked right terrible." Molly saw the fear in this woman's eyes and knew it must have been horrible.

"I don't know him personally, only seen him around the hospital and knew you two were together so I found his phone in his pocket while the nurses got him on a gurney and sure enough your number was in it."

"Is he stable? What do they think is wrong?" Molly pressed her for more information.

"I'm sorry I don't know…I've overheard nurses and doctors saying something about him having a rapid pulse and can't seem to get a blood pressure…has he…been using lately…?" Cindy asked delicately.

Molly felt taken aback, "No! No of course not!"

"Think hard Molly…has he been disappearing for hours at a time and returning acting odd or anything? Anything that would indicate a drug problem? It's just…well, they found needles in his pocket…"

Molly stayed silent a moment then burst into tears.

"Oh God, Sherlock…" Was all she could manage out.

"I understand, dear. You stay here let me check on him, I'll be right back."

Molly nodded. All this anxiety was making her feel sicker then she already was. She got up and began wandering to the bathroom feeling her stomach reeling and threatening to send anything that was left in her stomach back up.

She happened to look up because there was a lot of commotion in one room, and froze as she realized she was looking at half a dozen different people in scrubs surrounding Sherlock's limp body, doing everything they can to get him to respond. His skin was so pale, his eyes closed peacefully as the crowd of people all were trying to make sure he was still alive. It was more the Molly could stand and she felt herself falling to her knees, her vision getting black around the edges.

"Molly!" She heard Cindy's voice come from the room and saw her come running out towards her.

"It's okay, Molly, hey look at me!" She pulled Molly's face up to look at her, "Listen…it's okay…we don't need you collapsing out here, come on, love."

Cindy helped pull her up and dragged her back into the small waiting room.

"I'm sorry…I'm sick…I left work because I wasn't feeling good today…I just don't have any energy. I'm fine I promise…" Molly said weakly leaning back tiredly in a chair.

"I thought you didn't look good…listen you stay in here and rest, don't get up until I get back, ok?"

Molly nodded. Cindy dragged a garbage can over close to her then trotted out of the room. Molly's exhaustion caught up with her and she closed her eyes, trying to push all of the terrible thoughts about what could be happening right now from her mind. It seemed like hours before Cindy came back in the room. Molly lifted her head and looked hopefully up at her.

Cindy smiled and Molly let out a sigh of relief, feeling her heart beat finally start to return to normal.

"He's stable…He's not conscious yet, but he's stable. We found track marks on his arm, I'm sorry but…this was definitely an overdose."

"I understand." Molly said, just happy at the moment that Sherlock was going to survive.

"Can I see him now?" She asked calmly.

"If it will make you feel better yes…" Cindy smiled again. She helped Molly up and they walked together into the room where Sherlock lay. Still pale but some color beginning to return to his face. Molly immediately leaned down and hugged against his bare chest, attempting to hide the tears that were flowing freely down her face now.

"I'll leave you alone, dear," Cindy said.

"Thank you so much…" Molly said. Her heart ready to burst with relief from this whole situation. She felt peace when she heard his heartbeat though his ribcage. He was going to be alright…and she was going to absolutely murder him…but he was alive.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock heard voices. They sounded familiar…but so far away. His head hurt terribly, he attempted to open his eyes. It was like lifting cinder blocks they were so heavy. His vision was quite blurry but through it he could make out a few figures standing over him. He wondered how long he had been out for.

"Sherlock!"

"Hmm?" He mumbled turning his head to the side.

"Oh, Sherlock! Oh everybody was so worried!" He could recognize Mrs. Hudson's voice anywhere.

"Would you make me a cup of tea, Mrs. Hudson? I feel terrible." He muttered.

"As well you should! Scaring everyone like that! You should be ashamed!"

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock blinked and tried to bring her into focus. Slowly his vision came back.

This was a very white room. Very sterile looking.

Oh, shit this was a hospital room…

He instantly struggled to sit up. His first thought was 'if Molly sees me in here, she's going to flip'. He knew this was drug related, the last place he had been was that drug house. He must have done something stupid. Stupid…but brilliant! He was finally able to sit up.

"Yes! Finally! This may be the best thing that's happened this week!" He said happily. But his head gave a nasty throb and he lay back down.

"What on earth are you talking about, Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked confused.

"Never mind. Go get me a cab Mrs. Hudson, I have to leave at once, I'll be having company soon."

He heard her trot out into the hallway saying, "Nurse! I think he's gone a bit loopy!" She must have left after that because she didn't return.

He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Old habits calling again, brother?" He heard that familiar snobby voice.

"Mycroft why are you here…?" Sherlock said already tired of his presence.

"Oh yes…heaven forbid I worry about your well-being. You were only half dead." He said incredulously.

"Well, as you can see, I'm fine now, so please leave." Sherlock said beginning to pull at the many wires that were attached to him.

"So, when you say you'll be having company soon, you are talking about who?" Mycroft pressed him.

"It's none of your concern," Sherlock said trying to ignore him.

"I have a feeling it is," Mycroft said smartly.

Sherlock sighed, "Magnusson."

"I knew it," Mycroft said.

"Then why pester me about it?" Sherlock gave him a dirty look.

"You know this is not going to end well don't you? He just about the most powerful man in Europe. Maybe even the world. And you put your life in danger for the sake of what? Some stranger's letters?"

"Just because I don't know this woman, does that mean I shouldn't help her?"

Mycroft thought a moment. "I can't stop you…but I can tell you he is a dangerous man, Sherlock. Very dangerous. You say one wrong thing-"

"Yes, I know. Anything else?" Sherlock said irritably. Mycroft looked out of the door as footsteps were approaching down the hallway.

"Yes. Good luck." He gave his younger brother a teasing look and strolled calmly from the room just as Molly came quickly walking in. The look on her face could have killed when she saw him. He found he had to look away in embarrassment. She closed the door to his room and he knew he was in trouble.

She walked over to his bed and stood over him.

"I looked over your chart." She seemed to be trying to stay calm. "I honestly cannot believe you. I cannot believe you did this to yourself AGAIN. Did you think we wouldn't find out? Did you think I was so stupid I…"? She stopped, her voice cracking.

Surely Molly was the only one who could make him feel so badly about this.

"Listen, I want to explain, Molly-"  
"Sherlock I don't want your excuses... I don't even want to look at you right now I'm so hurt. Whatever reason you did this was NOT a good enough reason for me. Call me when they send you home." And with that she left just as quickly as she had come.

Molly walked through the winding hallways of the hospital; her thoughts racing. Should she have given him a chance to explain himself? No certainly not. Like she told him, there was not a good enough reason for this.

Should she go back?

No of course not, he needs to sit there alone and think about what he had done.

Should she stay with him after this?

That question hit her hard and by surprise. She slowed her pace as she thought. This was a serious question that needed more than a few minutes thinking over…and it absolutely tore her apart to think of it at all…

A few days came and went and although Molly couldn't bring herself to visit Sherlock, she called the nurse every night to check on him and checked his chart when she could sneak glances of it at work.

When Sherlock finally insisted upon going home, even though they had wanted him to stay longer for observation, he got dressed in fresh clothes Mrs. Hudson had brought him and picked up his phone. He stared at it for a moment questioning if he should even call Molly. She wouldn't be off of work for another few hours so he could go home and have a few hours to himself…but she had said to call him and he was in enough trouble as it was. So he hesitantly picked up the phone and called the hospital phone she had on her. After a few rings he heard Molly's mousy voice on the other end.

"Pathology, Molly speaking."

"…Molly it's me." Sherlock said.

"Oh…hello Sherlock." She said, her voice going from friendly to bitter instantly.

"I…just wanted to let you know I'm going home in a few minutes."

"Do you have a key?" She asked with no emotion.

"Yes."

"Fare for a cab?"

"Yes."

"See you at home then. Bye" And with that she hung up. That should get her point across. She grinned in spite of herself. He had hurt her so deeply by doing this, she didn't care if she hurt his feelings right now.

Sherlock hung up his phone and looked down. He knew he would simply have to sit her down and make her listen when she got home tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

Molly's day at work was so busy that she had nearly forgotten Sherlock was at home waiting for her. Once she arrived at the flat, she stood there a moment trying to draw strength, then opened the door. She closed it behind her, put her bag down, took off her coat, then walked around the corner and stopped very suddenly giving a small gasp. There was a man sitting at the table in the kitchen. One she had never seen before. He looked very well dressed and smart but something about his gaze made her uncomfortable.

"Who are you?" She asked.

The man gave a small laugh. "Well that's a bit rude wouldn't you say? I am your guest after all…"

"I'm sorry…but…does Sherlock know you're here?" She asked looking around. She hadn't seen him when she had walked in.

"Oh, I think he expects me, but I haven't seen him yet."

"Um…I'll just go look for him shall I?" She gave a polite smile and rushed off calling Sherlock's name. She looked in every room but he was nowhere to be found. She grew anxious as she realized her and this man were alone in the apartment. Where the bloody hell was Sherlock!? She had dealt with creepy men before and tried to think of a quick plan so as not to let this man know she was home alone.

She walked back into the kitchen putting a fake smile on her face.

"He's just asleep in his room," She said trying to sound convincing, "He just got out of the hospital so he's rather tired. Perhaps you can come back some other time?" She politely suggested.

"In bed, huh?" He said quietly.

"Yes. H-he's still recovering." She said looking away from this man. His unblinking dead eyes were making her feel very uncomfortable.

"And who are you may I ask? I didn't know Sherlock had a…flat-mate?"

"Girlfriend." She corrected him, a little taken aback.

"Oh!" he said surprised but still keeping his voice low. "And what is your name?"

"Molly." She said simply. He raised his eyebrows to further inquire her.

"Hooper." She answered his unspoken question.

She felt a little unsafe giving this man her full name. He stared at her for an awkward moment.

"Well…Id better be off. Tell Sherlock if he wanted my attention he could have just called…he need not go through the trouble of faking a drug problem." He stood.

"Oh…and tell him the letters are a hard bargain. I would need some very valuable information for him to ever get those."

He said walking towards Molly. He stopped in front of her.

"You know I must say…I'd really rather hoped the flowers were for me…" He grinned. Molly looked at the table and hadn't noticed before but there was a small vase with flowers in it and a little card that had been opened already. He walked towards the door and Molly turned around.

"You haven't told me your name," She called after him.

"Charles Magnussen." He said simply, then left closing the door behind him.

Molly stood in place a full minute trying to make heads or tails of what just happened. Sherlock had told the truth…he really had been doing drugs for a case…

She walked over to the flowers on the table and picked up the opened card on the table.

'Molly,

I'm sorry. I know nothing I say will make it better, but maybe these will help a bit. P.S. I had to talk to my brother, I will be back as soon as I can. Don't answer the door for anyone.

-Sherlock'

Her stomach clenched uncomfortably. That Charles man had known she was lying and he wasn't here. She quickly went over and locked the door then checked all the windows to see that they were locked as well.

Sherlock walked up to his flat and as soon as he saw the doorway he knew Magnussen had been here already. He quickly unlocked the door and ran up the steps.

"Molly?" He immediately worried and quickly looked around for her.

"In here," He heard her yell from the bathroom. The door was cracked open so he walked right in to find Molly soaking in the tub.

"Are you ok?" He asked quickly.

"Yes, I'm fine why?" She asked with a curious look.

"He was here wasn't he?" Sherlock said. He saw an uncomfortable look come over Molly's face. "What did he say?" He asked her, kneeling down beside the tub.

"He just said to tell you he would need some very valuable information in exchange for some…letters I believe it was."

Sherlock sighed.

"Oh, and that you didn't need to do drugs to get his attention." She looked up at him. He looked down.

"Molly, listen I'm sorry about that…I really thought it was the only way…"

Molly leaned her head back and looked up at the ceiling.

"I thought you were going to die, Sherlock. All I could see in my head was an image of me standing over your dead body having to run tests on it to see what killed you…"

"I should have at least told you where I was going. I realize how stupid I was acting now." He said staring downward. Molly glanced at him.

"No more, Sherlock. You can't do this again. Not to yourself or your friends. You nearly died and next time you just might not wake up. And I refuse to be with a drug addict, you understand?"

"I promise." Sherlock said. Molly reached up and touched his face with her wet hand.

"I want to believe you," She said looking into his eyes. He didn't know what to say to that. He only felt what he would describe as disappointment. In himself.

"Please don't ever bring that man back here again by the way." Molly said. Sherlock could see in her eyes that even the thought of him made her uneasy.

"That I can't promise…" He said. "But I'll do my best to keep him away from you."

"Deal," She said. Then gave him a small smile.

"Want to hop in with me?" She said quietly. He had a million other things on his mind, but to make Molly happy he smiled and agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock tossed and turned all night, cold sweat running down his back, barely closing his eyes all night he finally decided to get up so he wouldn't wake Molly. As soon as he stood, he instantly felt sick. The room was spinning and his stomach turning. He barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up in the commode. He leaned back against the tub when he felt like he would stop puking. It had been almost a week since he had been released from the hospital and he knew it was about time he was going through withdrawals.

He lay against the tub for God knows how long, simply trying to get the energy to stand. When he finally did get the energy, he very slowly made his way to grab his phone and sat on the floor in the kitchen, trying to dial John's number. His hands were shaking so badly it was hard to type the number in, but he eventually got it.

"Hello?" He heard Johns voice on the other end of the line.

"John…I need medicine…now please."

"Sherlock? It's nearly one in the morning what's wrong with you?"

"I just told you!" Sherlock said moodily.

"Sherlock, I don't just have withdrawal medication lying around…"

"Then go and get some and bring it here. I think I have tachycardia, I'm sweating, shaking, and throwing up, and I don't want to go to the hospital. Please John."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment and all Sherlock could hear was his own labored breathing.

"I'll see what I can do. Stay where you are and don't do anything stupid."

Without saying bye, Sherlock hung the phone up and lay on his side on the kitchen floor. He was in complete agony, every cell of his body screaming at him for not feeding his addiction. The more he thought about the drug, the more his body hurt. He remembered vaguely being in the same situation a few years ago. He thought he was dying, but he pulled through and as soon as John got here he would again.

Sure enough John arrived in less than half an hour. He used his spare key to gain entry and when he saw the state of Sherlock he knew this was serious. John noted how pale and clammy he was, sweating, grinding his teeth in pain, breathing labored.

"Thank God you're here…" Sherlock said quietly, "I don't want Molly to see me like this…please try to be quiet…" He said even though his breathing was the loudest thing in the flat.

"Sherlock you look bloody awful. I think you need medical attention," John said leaning down over his friend.

"That's why I called you," Sherlock snapped.

"I don't have much that will help you, Sherlock. I can give you pain medicine but I can't give you anything strong, it may kill you. Your body is trying to function without the drugs you had been supplying it with for God knows how long. I'm afraid you just have to let this pass or get to the hospital so they can get you proper medication."

John did a quick examination of him. Indeed, his pulse was very erratic and elevated, respirations fast and shallow, blood pressure high. He wouldn't die…but he was most definitely going to have a hard time the next few days.

John pulled some pain pills and a mild sedative from his doctor's bag out and grabbed Sherlock a glass of water.

"Here, these will take the edge off. You need to drink a lot of water and get a lot of rest the next few days to get over this. And let Molly help, Sherlock. You know she worries about you."

Sherlock quickly took the pills and lay back on the floor. John stayed with him for over an hour to make sure the pills would have the desired effect. He helped him get to the couch where he lay and fidgeted for a while, but slowly he began to still and his breathing began to even out. Just what John wanted to see.

Slowly, Sherlock's eyes began to close as his body gave into exhaustion.

"Sherlock…"

"Hmm?" he groaned without opening his eyes.

"Why are you sleeping out here?"

He tried to get his brain to function but just couldn't. He slowly got his eyes to open, but immediately buried his face back into the couch.

"It's too bright...turn off the light," He demanded.

"There's no lights on, it's just the sunrise."

He now recognized the voice as Molly's.

"And quit yelling while you're at it," He grumpily added.

Molly realized why he was out here at that moment and suddenly realized how bad he looked.

"Jesus, Sherlock, do you need to go to the hospital?" She asked quietly.

"No, just leave me alone." Sherlock said into the couch.

Molly was slightly taken aback, but tried to tell herself he wasn't in his right mind. She hurried and finished getting ready for work and left without another word making sure to lock the door behind her. She ran into Mrs. Hudson at the bottom of the stairs and asked her to keep an eye on Sherlock today because he wasn't feeling well. She, of course, said she would, and with that Molly went off to work.

It was rather warm out this morning, just a slight cool breeze blowing her hair around a bit. She had decided on walking to work it was so nice out, so she began to make her way in the direction of the hospital. She walked quietly, not talking to anyone she passed but being polite. She got to a stop light and waited to cross the road when she looked across the road and could have sworn she saw that same man from the other day. But his face got lost in the crowd of people that came walking across the street so she quickly tried to forget about it.

She had a strange feeling the rest of the way to work, a very uncomfortable, unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. She would spin around randomly because she would have sworn someone was following her closely or breathing down her neck...but there was never anyone.

She finally relaxed when she walked through the doors of the hospital. Thank God, people everywhere. She made her way to her peaceful little lab and began settling in. She worried about Sherlock but was thankful Mrs. Hudson would be there to keep an eye on him. God knows he's having rough time right now.

She was soon busy about to prepare on her first autopsy of the day. Her partner wouldn't be here for about another hour, but she always liked to begin early. She uncovered the poor bloke's body and had her small moment of sadness for him. He was only in his early forties and police don't even know what killed him. They found him alone in an alley already dead. So, she began her dirty work. She turned to grab a tool and nearly had a heart attack when she saw someone standing in the doorway. She grabbed her chest and laughed nervously.

"Who is it?" She said unable to see a face.

Whoever it was stepped closer so she could see his face and her stomach felt like it dropped into her feet when she saw it was the same man from the apartment last week. The man she had seen on the street today. The man Sherlock didn't want anywhere near her. Charles Magnussun.

"How are you, Molly Hooper?" He gave an odd smile and walked towards her.

"I'm sorry but, you're really not allowed in here, I could get in a lot of trouble." She tried to be polite.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about that. The cameras have stopped working down here for some reason." He grinned. She eyed him suspiciously.

"Okay, just stop. Obviously your here for a reason, why don't you stop playing games and tell me what it is?" She held the bone saw she had picked up earlier tightly in her hand and refused to take her eyes off the man.

"Me? I don't want anything. I already know everything about you, Molly. See, I've been watching you and Sherlock for a while now. I know he wants the letters. But you can tell him he won't see a single one of them. Not that he's in much of a condition to come get them anyway. In fact...I think he will be out of the game for a while. He took it too far this time didn't he? Are you sure it was all just for a case, Molly? Do you really believe that?"

His unblinking eyes never broke contact as he spoke.

"Of course I believe that." She said firmly. But something inside of her faltered a little.

"Why? Because he said it? Do you really believe everything he says?" He asked calmly.

"Yes, I do." She assured herself as she spoke out loud. Her grip on the bone saw tightened in anger. She knew what he was trying to do.

"And do you really think he cares enough about you that he wouldn't be hiding anything from you? Anything at all?" He had a half smirk on his face.

"What are you talking about?" Molly asked angrily.

Magnussen grinned and looked down for a minute, then looked back up and caught her gaze again.

"I don't think Sherlock likes you as much as you think he does." He said boldly.

Molly was appalled this man would say something like that. He didn't know anything about them...It was making her grow more and more angry.

"You need to leave. Now." She said her small voice rising a bit.

Magnussen looked at her a minute, shrugged his shoulders, and turned to leave.

"I would check the top drawer of his dresser if I were you." He said, and with that he walked out of the door. Molly had never felt so uneasy about anyone in her life. She had no idea what he was on about and she shakily set the bone saw back down on the table. She took a minute to recompose herself, then cleared her throat and began her work. When her assistant showed up later, she felt a bit better and had someone to talk to at least. He was a kind, tall, nerdy looking guy. But he was nice enough. He seemed very willing to learn and she was happy to teach him. So she focused on that today instead of anything that terrible man had said. After a long, grueling day, she finally washed her hands and got ready to head back to the flat.


	6. Chapter 6

Molly decided to take a cab home, still feeling uneasy about the encounter earlier today. They soon arrived, she paid the driver, and made her way into the flat. Mrs. Hudson must have been sleeping because she didn't hear or see her anywhere, so she made her way up to the flat in silence and quietly opened the door. Sherlock was fast asleep on the couch where she had left him. She tip-toed over and knelt beside him. He was facing away from her but she didn't care. She ran a hand lovingly through his hair and he didn't even flinch. He was out cold.

She went ahead and showered and made herself a quick meal, putting some left overs in the fridge in case Sherlock woke up hungry. She realized she was doing everything she could to stay busy because she kept hearing the words Magnusson had said to her in her ear. 'check his dresser.'

She felt a kind of uncomfortable nagging sensation to go see what was in there. But at the same time, she didn't want to believe that weird man. She didn't want to think he knew something that could possibly tear them apart. He had acted like he knew them both so well…but how? She had never seen him before in her life!

She paced around a bit fighting with herself, but a sudden noise from Sherlock took her attention immediately away from her thoughts. He made a noise as if he had just received a sharp pain. She ran over to him and leaned over to get a better look at him. His eyes were squeezed shut and teeth bared in pain, his breathing fast and sweat beading on his forehead. God how long would this last for? She went and got a rag and ran it under cool water. She went to put it on his neck but when it made contact with his skin it was as though something had attacked him and he shot up on the couch, the blankets tangling around him and causing him to panic. He struggled to get the blanket that was wrapped around his feet untangled as though it was some creature holding him down. Molly stepped back, dropping the rag.

"No! No! Get off!" He slurred loudly at the blankets, suddenly falling onto the ground still struggling. If it had been under different circumstances it almost cold have been humorous. But right now it was just sad. His cognitive skills were not working properly, and he was obviously confused.

"Sherlock, it's ok, you're in your flat. You're on Baker street, nothings attacking you," Molly tried to reason with him. He turned quickly around to look at her.

"What…what are you doing in my flat, Molly?" He panted.

"I…live here now Sherlock…you told me I could move in remember?"

"No." He said simply staring at her confused.

"Well, I'm sorry but that's what you told me. Now here, let me get you some cold water-"

"Why are you trying to poison me?" He said suspiciously and threw the covers from himself, unsteadily getting to his feet.

"I'm not trying to poison you I'm trying to help, now relax and sit back down," She said growing nervous. She ran and grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen. He stood still the whole time.

"Oh, Molly…I know what you're up to. And I'm not taking a DAMN thing from you!" He yelled and knocked the glass out of her hand where it shattered on the floor.

"Sherlock stop! Look what you've done! Look how you're acting!" She pleaded.

"How I'm acting? You're the one trying to kill me and _I'm_ acting crazy!?" He took a few steps towards her and she backed up reaching for her cell phone in her pocket. As he walked towards her, she backed up and with shaking hands dialed John's number.

"Who are you calling? The police? They won't help you…I'm not afraid to kill you, I've had to fight for my life before…"

"Hello, Molly, how are you?" She heard John answer on the phone.

"John please come over quickly, Sherlock's not himself, I think he may try to kill me…I'm scared…"

"You're damn right I will! Coming into my flat to poison me!" He yelled and knocked everything off the kitchen table. Molly whimpered and backed into a corner.

"Oh God, Molly, I'll be right there! Try to stay away from him! I bet you anything he's having bad withdrawal induced hallucinations."

Molly dropped the phone and hunkered down a bit as Sherlock towered over her.

"And to think I used to love you…" He said looking at her. She tried not to take any of this to heart, she knew this wasn't really him. But it still hurt.

"You don't mean that…" She said quietly.

"Don't I?" He reached out and grabbed her hair forcing her to look up at him.

"Who would want a snake like you? You're a killer and you know it!"

He began quite literally dragging her across the kitchen floor, Molly screaming and begging for him to stop. He threw her to the ground in the living room as he reached down for a shard of the broken glass that he had shattered moments ago. Molly took this opportunity to run. She ran into the bathroom and locked the door quickly behind her.

"Come back out and face me! You coward! You know what you've done! I promise I'll make your death quick!" She could hear him stumbling over towards the bathroom where she was. Tears ran down her face as she leaned her back against the door. She swore she would never ever try any kind of drug after watching him like this. And she would be damned if he ever touched one again.

'Please get here soon, John, PLEASE.' She willed him mentally. She knew he would hurry but she just hoped he would make it in time.

Sherlock began banging on the door. So hard that she thought he may break it.

"Stop it!" She screamed, "Stop banging this instant! You are scaring me, Sherlock Holmes!"

He stopped banging and she heard him hit the floor. It sounded as though he was groaning in pain and she wiped her face on her sleeve and got up. She had to be brave now, Sherlock needed her.

She opened the door and had to step over him to get out. He was writhing in pain on the ground, holding his stomach, his eyes squeezed close tightly.

"Sherlock…" She knelt down next to him.

He looked up at her panting hard and sweating. He grabbed onto the front of her shirt almost pulling her completely down.

"Why won't you help me?" He said then letting her go and clutching at his insides again. He was digging his nails into his own flesh leaving red marks all over his stomach. Molly was afraid to touch him again though, she just hoped John would have something strong to give him to knock him out. She sat on the other side of the hallway with her knees drawn up simply watching the terrible sight before her. Unable to do anything to help.

She decided to walk into the kitchen and grab her phone she had dropped. She picked it up and opened it up to see how long it had been since she called John. About five minutes ago. She knew it wouldn't be much longer, he didn't live too far. She began walking back towards the bathroom but stopped when she looked up from her phone and saw Sherlock standing in front of her blocking her escape route to the bathroom. He looked truly insane. He was still panting, and his hair was a mess. His shirt was slightly ripped in places from him scratching at it. Molly stood still unsure of what to do, unsure of what he would do.

"Why…wont you…help me?" He panted out staring at her.

"I'm trying, I promise…come here…" She held a hand out for him. He stared at it unsure for a moment looking suspiciously from her hand to her face. She stepped slowly towards him, inching closer and closer. She was finally only about a foot away and she reached out her hand to touch his, her heart beating wildly.

As soon as their skin made contact, Sherlock fell to his knees.

"I just want it to stop…" He said quietly, tears now running down his face.

Molly knelt down beside him and slowly brought a hand up to his face. He looked at her with the saddest face she had ever seen on him.

"I'm sorry I have to do this, Molly…" He said. She looked at him confused.

"Do what, Sherlock?"

"I have to get this needle out of my skin. I have to…it's poisoning me. It's stuck in there so deep…"

He then pulled the sharp piece of glass from his pocket that he must have picked up from the cup she had dropped, and Molly pushed herself back as Sherlock dragged the shard down his arm. She realized what was happening after a moment of shock and immediately grabbed his wrist that was holding the glass.

"Stop! Stop it now!" She yelled and tried to pry the glass from his hand. It cut her hand, but she ignored it and continued to fight to get it away. She managed to make him drop it where it fell to the floor and she kicked it away from them.

Sherlock yelled out in frustration.

"Now what am I supposed to do!?" He pushed her over and got up stumbling towards the living room, blood dripping sickly off his arm leaving a trail behind him. There was a sudden banging on the front door.

"Molly? Are you there?" It was John, he had made it!

"Yes! Hold on, John, I'll get the door!" She pushed herself up off the ground and ran towards the door to open it. She was nearly there when she felt herself being pulled roughly away from the door.

"Let me go right now!" She yelled as Sherlock pulled her small frame into him.

John knocked again, more urgently this time.

"Sherlock, open this door now!"

"John he-" But her yells became muffled as Sherlock wrapped his hand over her mouth.

John fumbled through his keys to find the spare one he had for the flat. He found it and hurriedly opened the door. He immediately saw Sherlock standing in the living room facing him, holding Molly tightly against his front like a hostage, one hand over her mouth. Molly's eyes were wide and afraid, pleading with John to do something. There was blood everywhere and John couldn't tell who it was coming from.

"Sherlock…what are you doing?" John closed the door behind himself and set his doctors bag down, holding his hands up in a non-threatening way.

"Listen…I'm here to help- "

"You can't help me…" Sherlock said backing away from him, dragging Molly with him.

"Yes, I can. Now let her go, and I will fix this…"

Sherlock seemed to be thinking it over. He stared hard at John trying to figure him out. God only knew what was going through his brain at the moment.

"Do you want to stop hurting?" John asked stepping closer.

"…Yes…I hurt terribly, John…"

"Ok…then let her go and I'll give you something to make it stop."

Sherlock stood still for a moment then slowly removed his hand from Molly's mouth but still held her tightly.

"That's good, Sherlock, now let her come over here and she can help me okay? Together we can fix this…"

"But I…I love her, John…I didn't mean to hurt her I swear…" He said sadly.

"Sherlock," Molly said, his grip loosened, and she turned around to face him, he stared down at her with a heartbreaking look in his eyes. "It's okay…I know you didn't mean to. But this has to stop. Let John help you now, okay?" She spoke softly to him. He stared down at her in silence for a moment and slowly let go of her. She took a step back and then quickly made her way over to John. They both breathed a sigh of relief and John knelt down to get something out of his bag. Molly kept her eyes on Sherlock in case he tried anything. But he simply sat on the ground and leaned his head back, gritting his teeth in pain and groaning.

"Hurry up, John," He demanded.

"Yes, here it is. I'm coming over to you, and you have to stay still it's very important, do you understand?"

"Yes, just hurry," He snapped back.

John knelt down beside him with a syringe in his hand. He pushed Sherlocks sleeve up and stuck the needle in his upper arm pushing the liquid into his muscle. Then he quickly recapped the needle and stepped back. It only took a mere minute to kick in. Sherlock slowly seemed to be falling asleep. He leaned back completely and rested his head on the ground, closing his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

"What was that?" Molly asked.

"Haldol. A strong dose. It doesn't usually make people fall asleep like that but his body is probably so exhausted he won't be up anytime soon. Will you bring my bag over here please? We need to fix his arm up."

Molly grabbed his bag and dropped down beside Sherlock to try and help.

"Are you okay?" John glanced at her while grabbing gauze from his bag.

"I think so. I cut my hand, but I think that's it. He got the worst of it," She said quietly. John looked closely at Sherlock's arm and shook his head.

"He's lucky he missed any major arteries or veins, but this is deep. I'm gonna have to stitch it up." As John worked on putting stitches in his arm, Molly cleaned her hand off with saline and wrapped her own cut. She stood and looked at the flat. It was a wreck. There was stuff thrown everywhere in the kitchen and a bloody trail leading across the floor smeared where they had stepped in some of it. Molly herself was smeared with blood from where Sherlock had been holding her with his bloodied arm. She sighed and choked back tears as she went to pick everything up in the kitchen. By the time she got everything off the floor, John had finished with the stitches. He wrapped the wound up as Molly pulled out a mop to clean the blood off the floor.

"Well, I'm all done here. Let's get him in bed and I'll help you clean up."

They managed to drag his unconscious body to the bedroom and get him in bed. Molly stared sadly at him. John looked at her carefully.

"You sure you're okay?" He asked concerned.

She nodded but couldn't stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks.

"He can't be around drugs anymore, John. That was horrible. I can't be with him if he ever does something like this again." She looked up at John, "I thought he was going to kill me. He almost killed himself!"

"Molly I know this is scary, and I understand completely. I was his roommate for God knows how long. But you and I both know this was a one time thing. He's not going to be doing this anymore and I promise you Mycroft and I will make sure of it."

Molly grinned and grabbed John's hand.

"Thank you for coming so quickly."

"It was no problem. I've seen patients with worse hallucinations than this. We're lucky he didn't do more damage." John sighed, and they stared at Sherlock who was in a deep sleep for a moment.

"Come on," He said, "I'll help you clean."

They both headed to the kitchen and began to wipe up the bloody mess.

"How's Mary doing by the way?" Molly asked while she was mopping. John looked up from picking various items up off the floor.

"Bit under the weather I'm afraid. The first trimester of pregnancy hasn't been easy on her that's for sure," He continued talking as he cleaned.

"Oh, is she having a difficult time?" Molly asked politely.

"Oh yeah…she's nauseated most every day. She thought she had some stomach bug at one point, but I assured her it was quite normal. And not to mention the mood swings and headaches she's gotten from all the crazy hormones. I don't know about her, but I can't wait for it to be over." He laughed. Molly smiled. She thought back to how she recently had been pretty sick and didn't envy Mary right now. A few more minutes went by and they finally had the flat somewhat back in order.

"Well, I guess I better get back home. Mary was worried, and she'll want to know all the details of what happened I'm sure. If he wakes up again you can call me, I'll keep my phone on all night. But I suspect he should be fine until morning. Oh, and here," John handed her a handful of pills out of a container.

"What's this?" She said looking over them.

"Very strong pain pills. He'll need them when he wakes up. Only give him two pills twice a day with food."

John made his way down the stairs and Molly watched him go. She closed the door and went back into the bedroom to check on Sherlock.

He was sound asleep, a small bit of blood smeared on his face and a lot more on his shirt and arm. With how peaceful this man looked you would never have guessed what had just gone on just minutes ago. She climbed carefully onto the bed beside him and ran a finger down his face lovingly. Something he most definitely not allow if he was conscious. But she couldn't help herself…she touched his face, brushed over his lips, brushed his hair out of his face…everything she had longed to do for so many years but never could. He always held himself together so well. So confident, so strong…and now to see him like this…

She wiped her face on her sleeve and covered him up, then made her way to the couch where she decided to sleep just in case he woke up and freaked out again. Sleep wasn't easy to come by and she found herself watching the telly most of the night and fading in and out of weird dreams.

Sherlock blinked a few times. The sunlight seeping through the curtains in his room were almost unbearable. His head pounded, and his muscles ached. It took an enormous effort, but he finally lifted his eye lids the whole way and simply laid there while his body woke up. He then very slowly pushed himself up in the bed and looked around. Why did he feel so disoriented? Get it together, Sherlock, orient yourself. Clearly you are in your bedroom, you probably were withdrawing badly last night which would explain you feeling like you fell from a window this morning. He looked around and noticed dried blood on his sheets and looked over his body to see that the blood was his. Apparently, he was cut and stitched back up last night, and by the looks of the stitching it was John's work. Perhaps John was still here and could tell him what happened.

He got out of bed and, though a bit dizzy and light headed, he surprisingly didn't fall on his way into the living room. He saw the telly on with some old comedy show playing quietly and Molly curled up facing away from it under a light blanket. He furrowed his brow. Why was she sleeping out here? She always liked sleeping in his bed with him.

But he took one look around at everything that had been moved and rearranged and he knew some sort of scuffle happened. He carefully made his way over to Molly and knelt down beside the couch.

"Molly…" He spoke softly.

She stirred slightly, and Sherlock laid a hand on her arm. She jumped and looked at him with big eyes sitting up immediately.

"Sherlock?" She said.

"It's just me, Molly. It's okay."

"You're…you're awake right? You're not…sleep walking or…?" She seemed unsure of what to say.

"No of course not," He said giving her a questioning look.

She breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed.

"What happened last night? I feel awful," Sherlock said coming to sit on the couch beside her rubbing his temples.

"You don't remember anything?" Molly asked.

"Not a thing. I went to sleep and woke up feeling terrible that's all I know."

Molly stared at him a moment. She thought he would at least remember a little.

"You sort of…freaked out a bit. John called it 'withdrawel induced hallucinations' or something. It was pretty terrible Sherlock. You sliced your own arm open…you said there was a needle stuck in it and you had to get it out. And you kept accusing me of trying to kill you…"

Sherlock was quiet a moment, his head still in his hands.

"Did I hurt you?" He said. Molly considered telling him about being dragged across the flat by her hair or being shoved or being held hostage. But she decided that would cause him too much anguish and she couldn't do that to him. No matter what he did to her.

"No. John came and gave you something to calm you down before it got too bad."

Sherlock had a feeling she wasn't telling the whole truth, but he had no proof and frankly, it made his head hurt to think too much about it. He looked over at her and saw a bandage wrapped around her hand.

"What happened to your hand?"

"Oh…I cut it trying to get the piece of glass you were cutting yourself with away from you. It's no big deal. It's not very deep…" She said sticking it underneath the blanket and grinning nervously.

"Molly…I'm so sorry…I don't know what to say…"

"Just say that you will never touch any kind of drug ever again." She replied quickly looking carefully at him. He looked back at her sadly.

"I promise…Never again." He said. She looked at him longingly like she wanted to touch him and hold him like he had seen in her face so many times before. But instead she got up and went to finish cleaning the kitchen that still had some things misplaced from last night, wiping her face as she worked. Sherlock followed her in the kitchen and watched her. When she finally turned around, he was right there waiting to pull her into his arms. She instantly melted into his embrace and buried her face into his shirt. Sherlock held her tightly, not knowing much about emotion, but somehow knowing that this is what she needed right now.

She seemed to calm down and he pulled away from her.

"Go take a bath, I'll finish up here," He said simply. She sniffed and nodded, walking away.

Sherlock stepped over to the window and people watched for a moment. He felt so guilty and didn't know how to fix it. And oh, how his head hurt this morning…

A ringing from Molly's cell phone that was sitting in the living room broke him out of his trance. He heard the water running and knew she wouldn't hear it, so he picked it up and looked at it. It was John.

"Hello John," Sherlock answered.

"Oh…Sherlock hi, is Molly there?" He sounded surprised to hear him.

"She's in the bath. Were you here last night?" He asked even though he knew the answer.

"Yeah I stopped by to help get you under control…why?"

"I thought I recognized the stitching. John I…I need help."

There was silence for a moment.

"Did you just ask for help?" He finally answered.

"Yes, I know, it's weird for me too. But you know more about women than I do and…" Sherlock lowered his voice to make sure Molly couldn't hear him, "John I think I hurt Molly and I feel so guilty like I should do something for her, but I don't know what to do or if anything would even help…"

He heard John laugh on the other end.

"What's so funny?" Sherlock said.

"You, Sherlock. How completely oblivious to some things you are. How about you stop acting like a dick and treat Molly like how she deserves to be treated. She's been there for you through everything. You told her about your 'death' and you didn't even tell me!"

"You're not going to let that go are you…?"

"Nope." John snapped back.

"John…I had to make it seem real okay? I know I've been a terrible friend in the past but…I really do need your help. I didn't think I could ever have something as normal as a relationship and yet here I am. And now that I have it…I'm…scared. I care about her so much and I have Magnusson knocking at my door scaring her, her crazy ex who could pop up at any time, and God only knows who else who would use her to get to me."

"Okay calm down I get it. Now you need to do something romantic. I know this is a hard concept for you, but flowers aren't going to be enough to fix something like this. You need to do something big. Plan a trip, take her to the nicest restaurant in the area you can find, apologize over and over, maybe get her a piece of jewelry. Just get away from it all for a few days and she will think about that trip for the rest of her life Sherlock. She will see you're serious about trying to keep her around and will forgive you. I mean for God sakes she's Molly Hooper she's probably forgiven you already because that's the kind of person she is. Stop taking her for granted and appreciate her. Now, I have to go, I just wanted to see how you were holding up and obviously you're fine. I left pain pills on the kitchen table for you, only take two twice a day with food and you should feel better."

"Thank you…and John?"

"Yes?" He sounded impatient.

"…I do miss having you around…you could…you know stop by and…have tea or something…I know you're busy with Mary and planning for your baby and what not but- "

"Are you trying to apologize?" John said in an odd voice.

Sherlock thought a moment, "Yes I…guess I am."

"Boy she really has changed you, hasn't she?" John laughed. "Of course, I forgive you, Sherlock. If I didn't I wouldn't have come to help you. You know I miss hanging out with you and doing all the stuff we used to do together, but I have a baby on the way now and work and a sick wife. I promise I'll ty to come see you sometime soon okay?"

"…okay," Sherlock answered quietly.

"Goodbye Sherlock. And don't forget my advice."

Sherlock hung up the phone.


	8. Chapter 8

Molly soaked back in the bathtub and put a rag over her eyes. The hot water felt so relaxing on her muscles after a restless and stressful night. She allowed herself to completely unwind and not think of anything, simply enjoying the moment.

There was a quiet knock on the door and she sighed.

"Come in," She said without taking the rag off her face.

She heard the door open and knew Sherlock had walked in.

"Mind if I join you?" He said. She took the rag off her face and looked up at Sherlock who was already taking his shirt off.

"I guess I don't have a choice," She said quietly. She watched him undress and then he came to sit in the hot water with her. She grabbed another rag off the shelf by the tub and put some soap on it. She took Sherlocks stitched up arm and carefully washed the blood off it.

"They say social grooming is a trait carried on from when humans evolved from primates. That people still do it when they really care about someone." He said.

"Who says that?" Molly grinned.

"I don't know I read it in a book once," He grinned at her.

"Well it's true. I do care about you. But then you already knew that…in fact you often used it to your advantage…"

Sherlock felt a twinge of guilt at her words. He had in fact used her quite often when he needed something in the past.

"Molly, I know I've been…a complete dick since I've known you. I didn't understand emotion, in fact I still don't think I do, but…I'm trying. My intentions were never to hurt you, understand that. When I would talk to you and give you advice I simply thought I was helping. I now know that my 'helping' is not what people usually want to hear. John has made me very aware of that."

"And what about all the times you would give me compliments just to get something you needed from me?" Molly said.

"I have no excuse for that…I honestly don't care about the size of your mouth and breasts like I said before. I was simply saying what I thought the other men in the room wanted to hear. You did look beautiful that Christmas night, but my mind was preoccupied and if I focused on you I would get nothing done. I've always thought you were beautiful. I guess I just…never allowed myself to think of you that way until recently. I thought that a relationship would be a distraction. And in fact, it has been."

Molly's face fell.

"But its been the most…wonderful distraction I've ever experienced. I only wish I would have realized it sooner."

Molly stared in his eyes, "Do you mean all that…?" She was getting teary again. Something Sherlock would probably never understand.

"Yes, of course I do, Molly." He stared straight back at her, "And I want to take you somewhere special to show you how much I care. Now I've already texted Stamford and asked him to give you a few extra days next weekend. He was fine with it, he said he's got someone to cover you. So, what I want you to do is decide where you want to go, and I'll make it happen."

"Are you serious?" Molly asked a small smile creeping up on her face. "Of course," Sherlock smiled. Molly had to sit and think a moment. She wasn't one for traveling or going places with large crowds, but Sherlock had already gone through this much trouble and if this was how he wanted to make it up to her she would gladly take him up on the offer.

"Well…I've always wanted to go to Belfast…"

Sherlock looked at her and laughed.

"What?" Molly asked a bit offended.

"I give you the option to go anywhere in the world, and you pick a two-hour plane ride to Ireland."

"Yeah but they have a nice Titanic museum I've wanted to go to since I was a teenager and I've never had a reason to go or the time so I just thought-"

Sherlock gently grabbed her cheeks which were turning pink in what he supposed was embarrassment.

"Molly if you want Ireland, then we'll go to Ireland. It's your choice."

She smiled at him her eyes sparkling.

"You really are turning soft, Sherlock, you know that?" She said placing her hand on his.

"Unfortunately," Sherlock sighed and grinned, leaning back in the bath.

"Want to get some breakfast at Mrs. Hudson's shop?" Molly suggested.

Sherlock stared at her a second, looking her up and down.

"What if I said I wasn't hungry for food…"

"Then I'd say you're lying. And I know very well you don't feel well enough to engage in such activities right now anyway," Molly laughed.

"Besides…" She stood getting ready to get out, exposing her full body to him, "You have a lot of making up to do."

She grabbed a towel and stepped out, drying herself then wrapping it around her and going into the bedroom to get dressed.

Sherlock grinned watching her for a second, then leaned back in the bath and closed his eyes. No, he certainly wasn't feeling well enough she was right about that. His energy felt drained, his head hurt, his arm hurt…he regret the last few weeks of his life, that was for sure. He soaked a minute longer then washed and got out himself. He found Molly dressed in jeans and a long sleeve finishing drying her hair. He got dressed as well and by the time she had her hair brushed and a little mascara on, he was ready too.

They went downstairs to the little café and took a seat. Mrs. Hudson hurried over to them with a worried look on her face and a pot of coffee in her hand.

"Is everything alright?" She kept her voice down so the few other costumers wouldn't hear her,  
"I heard crashing and yelling last night something awful and I almost came up to check on you, but I know how Sherlock can get and figured I would just be more in the way-"

"We're fine, Mrs. Hudson," Molly said smiling, "Sherlock was just withdrawing last night, but the worst should be over now."

Mrs. Hudson gave Sherlock an unapproving look.

"If you break anything in that apartment, young man, it will be added to your rent!" She poured coffee into their mugs.

"Making such a fuss like that, you had me worried to death you know! I should have rung the police the way you were acting!" And with that she trotted off to another costumer. After making sure the other people were taken care of she came back to their table to take their order.

"Eggs and bacon for me please," Molly said.

"Same for me," Said Sherlock, "Oh, and would you mind keeping an eye on the flat next weekend? Molly and I are going to Ireland for a long weekend."

"Oh, a romantic get away!" She sounded giddy with excitement, "Where at?"

"Belfast," Molly answered quickly, "I've wanted to go there forever!"

"Oh, Belfast is lovely! I went there once with a friend and we had such a wonderful time! Are you going to the Titanic museum?"

"Of course! That's the main reason I want to go!" Molly said excitedly.

Sherlock watched the two carry on talking carefully. The way Molly's eyes lit up when she talked about something she was passionate about was something he had never noticed before. He felt that weird feeling John had assured him was love and not an illness, and he found himself grinning a bit while watching her.

A customer sitting behind them got up to leave and broke his concentration.

"Let me know how you like it if you go!" Mrs. Hudson was saying to Molly about some restaurant that would be there.

"I will, thanks!"

And with that the elder lady went off to put their order in.

"I'm so excited, I can't wait to see everything," Molly said still smiling, taking a sip of her coffee. She looked thoughtful for a minute and kind of half laughed staring into her mug.

"What so funny?" Sherlock asked knowing she was in some secret thought.

"My life," She simply stated.

"Your…life is funny?" He didn't understand.

"Yes," She smiled leaning back in her chair.

"How so?" He tried to make sense of this weird situation.

"I'm sitting in a café having coffee with Sherlock Holmes, the man I've had a crush on since I started working with him, talking to our landlady about a trip were taking together, after having a bath together and turning you down for sex. If you would have told me this would be my life a year ago I would have laughed you all the way to bedlam. But here I am!"

Sherlock grinned despite himself. He supposed he wouldn't have quite believed it either. Yet here they were, and he had never been happier.


	9. Chapter 9

The next few days Sherlock began feeling much better as the withdrawals started to lessen. Sometimes he would get a wave of nausea or a shaking spell, but overall, he was feeling much more like his old self. His head was clearer than it had been for weeks. He tried to think of a plan to somehow trick Magnussun, but the man was practically untouchable unless he wanted you to get to him. This was a dangerous game indeed.

Molly, however, had seemed to forget about him completely. Sherlock wished he could forget things as easily as other people did. He walked around the flat, pacing, trying to come up with a plan. He heard keys in the door and watched as Molly came through with her work bag, sighing in relief that she was home.

"Eight bodies today! Eight! Apparently, there was some kind of bus accident and it was just chaos!" She shrugged her bag off and threw it to the side making her way to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee.

"I've never been so happy to leave work," She said as she walked back in the living room where Sherlock was.

"What have you been doing all day?" She asked him, kicking her shoes off and going to sit on the couch with her warm drink.

"Planning. Though it's not going well," He said quietly.

"Speaking of planning," Molly said, "Are you ready for our trip tomorrow? I can't wait, it's all I could think about at work. I think I told anyone that would listen to me about it," She laughed.

"Is that tomorrow already?" He questioned.

"I know, the week has flown by! We've been so busy I feel like I've barely seen you," She placed her mug on the coffee table and walked over to Sherlock, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head on his chest. He put his arms around her instinctively and they simply stayed that way for a moment.

"You smell like-"

"Formaldehyde? Yeah I dropped a bottle today during the chaos," She pulled away from him and began walking towards the bathroom "I'm going to go have a shower. I'll make some dinner afterwards. Will you start cutting up some chicken please?" She asked while taking her hair down.

He smiled at her and watched her go into the bathroom pulling the door so it was only opened a crack. Once he heard her step in and close the curtain behind her, he slowly walked over to the door and heard her humming. He stood there and listened, feeling the steam coming through the crack in the door. He didn't want dinner.

After a few minutes he heard the water turn off and her drying. He pushed the door open and she looked up at him continuing to dry herself.

"Everything okay?" She gave him a funny look. He walked directly up to her and leaned in quickly catching her off guard with a deep kiss. The towel dropped to the floor as Molly's hands quickly went to Sherlock's hair. He knew she could never refuse him and this was a rare moment where he planned on taking complete advantage or her yet again.

They continued passionately, Molly at some point jumping up so her legs were wrapped around Sherlock, her hands lost in his hair, her eyes dark and wanting. Sherlock carried her like this into the bedroom where he lay her on the bed and they kissed again, Sherlock now hurriedly pulling his pants down just enough to free himself. Molly pulled the shirt he had on over his head and threw it on the floor. She felt so exposed being completely naked and still damp from her shower. It was a rush for her as she was such a private person and only made it feel more exciting.

She made a small noise and threw her head back as she felt herself being filled all at once. Sherlock thrusted into her mercilessly. Molly nearly unable to keep her eyes open in ecstasy, was moaning uncontrollably, her hands grabbing skin, sheets, anything they could grip tightly onto as he continued. He suddenly stopped, grabbed her around the waist, and roughly flipped her over onto her stomach. He then grabbed her hips again and lifted them up going right back at it. Oh, Molly was absolutely drowning in pleasure now. She felt as Sherlock grabbed her wet hair and pulled it sharply, so she was forced to stay in that position. It only made her moan louder as she now couldn't escape him hitting just the right spot.

"You're mine Molly, you hear me?" He said roughly.

"Oh, God y-yes…" Was all she could manage out.

"Say it," He demanded. But she simply couldn't get words out, she wasn't thinking straight, her mind didn't work properly anymore. All she could feel was him and the immense pleasure he was bringing her.

"Say it, now," He said firmly, giving her hair a sharp tug to let her know he wasn't playing.

"I-I'm…oh God…," She had to stop and moan again, "I'm yours, Sherlock…all y-yours," She managed out. He let go of her hair and the front of her body dropped down. She gripped the sheets firmly, twisting them, unable to control her actions anymore. Sherlock used both hands to hold her hips now as he pounded harder than before into her small frame. He was absolutely overcome with lust and knew he wasn't going to last much longer. His grip tightened on her as he felt the pleasure building, his fingers digging into her skin. Molly let out a long moan and Sherlock knew she was at her climax, it drove him over the edge and he thrusted deeply into her as he finished, panting and shaking slightly. They both stayed still a moment, enjoying the high and each other. Sherlock was the one who finally moved first as he pulled his pants back up and made his way to the bathroom.

As soon as he pulled out of her, Molly had collapsed face down on the bed still getting over her high Sherlock had given her. She heard the water running and figured Sherlock must have gotten in the shower so she snuck in while he was washing to clean herself up, grabbed her phone, then pulled a pair of underwear and a t shirt on and laid on her stomach on the bed. She saw she had a new text and looked at it.

'Have a lovely time in Ireland tomorrow.'

She didn't recognize the number and wondered if it was a co worker who she simply hadn't put their number in her phone. It wouldn't be the first time. She quickly dismissed it and put her phone on the bedside table, laying her head down on the pillow.

When she heard Sherlock get out and come into the room, she lifted her head to watch him dress. Something she very much enjoyed doing. He pulled on sweatpants and a clean t shirt and came to sit on the bed by her. She smiled up at him as he ran a hand up her back gently.

"Take out?" He said simply, grinning.

"That would be lovely," She grinned back. He pulled out his phone to call and left the room.

The rest of the night they sat filling up on Chinese food, talking, and discussing plans for tomorrow. After a few hours they both eventually succumbed to sleep.

The next day started early, they packed and went out to catch a cab but were both surprised when there was a black limo outside of the flat waiting for them. They were quickly informed Mycroft had set up a private jet for them to take to Ireland. Sherlock rolled his eyes at this information, but Molly seemed rather excited, so he accepted his brother's offer.

They arrived earlier than intended and had to kill some time walking around the city checking out little shops and café's until they could check into the hotel room they had reserved. Molly didn't mind, she was having a great time and that was enough for Sherlock. He let her wander to her hearts content. After a long day of walking and exploring they crashed early that night watching a horror movie. The next day was the one Molly was excited about. She could hardly contain herself as they made their way to the museum she so desperately wanted to see.

As they walked around and looked at the RMS Titanic's pictures, history, and legends, Sherlock watched Molly carefully the whole time as she was rather excited and wanted to look at every little thing there. He watched her emotion change from excitement, to curiosity, to sadness, and back again numerous times. They spent the majority of the day there, and although it was busy, they ended up getting to look at everything they had wanted to see. As they left the building that evening Molly walked aimlessly looking around. She stopped when she saw the harbor and stared out at it. Sherlock came and stood by her.

"Can you imagine, Sherlock? This was the place hundreds of families stood and waved goodbye to loved ones that they would never see again. They had no idea…"

Sherlock put an arm around her as she stared pensively out into the horizon. He knew she was a sensitive woman and that she probably needed a moment to collect her thoughts. Though he knew this is what she needed, he did not understand why. This had happened ages ago, and Molly of all people understands death happens to everyone. He had never been one for history much. Unless it pertained to a case, he would never dwell on past events. He didn't see how it could be relevant to now. Millions of people have died at sea so why did the world obsess over this one? But he kept his mouth shut as John would have told him to and let Molly have her moment.

"Well," She finally sighed and turned away, "Want to go for drinks? That place Mrs. Hudson was talking about isn't far from here."

"I'm not sure me and Mrs. Hudson have the same ideas about what's 'good' but we can give it a shot," He replied.

The arrived at the place about ten minutes later. It was busy, there was music playing, and drunk people everywhere. They stood still a moment just looking at the place.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Sherlock broke their awkward silence.

"Well I wasn't expecting a pub…but come on, I'm sure it's great! It must be if its this busy!" She said and grabbed Sherlock's hand pulling him towards the place. They pushed passed the drunks and made their way to the bar to order their first round. Sherlock just getting a beer and Molly hitting the cranberry and vodka right away. When two seats opened up they quickly took them. Someone tapped on Sherlocks arm and he turned away from his drink while Molly chatted politely to a man by her side to see who it was. It was a rough haggard looking woman who had a few too many to drink.

"Are you Sherlock Holmes?" She slurred in her thick Irish accent.

"I'm afraid so," He answered.

"Oh, sir I knew I was just meant to be in this pub tonight! I had a dream you see! My daughter came to me and told me, she said 'mom you need to be at this pub tonight', so I come here and who do I find but Sherlock Holmes himself!" She laughed a bit too loudly.

"Why would your daughter tell you you needed to come to a bar in a dream?" he looked at her with an odd look.

"That's the funny thing about dreams init? You never know why anything happens in them!" She put a hand on his arm. He was a bit repulsed but didn't pull away. He reached for his mug of beer and took a sip hoping this woman's rant was over.

"My daughter, you see, she was always telling me 'mom you need to do this, do that, stop drinking, get clean, take a shower'!" She laughed in remembrance.

"When was the fire?" Sherlock said not being able to stop himself from deducing this woman who was demanding his attention.

"I didn't say anyth…..OH you're doing that thing you do!" She laughed again and pointed up at the sky as if talking to someone who was looking down on her, "Rebecca, you really knew what you were talking about!"

Sherlock glanced up in confusion and took another long swig knowing this was going to be one hell of a conversation.

"So, when was it? The fire that killed your daughter?" He said a bit uncaring.

"Oh, it's gotta be about three years ago now. But here's the thing Mr. Holmes, "She grabbed his arm firmly. "…she was dead before the fire. And they never figured out who done it…that's why she's sent me here to meet you!" She said her eyes getting big as though Sherlock was a prize she had just won, "You clever girl, you," She spoke to the ceiling again. Then she reached into her coats pocket and pulled a few old pictures that she very obviously carried with her everywhere she went judging by the state of them.

"This is her here, wasn't she a pretty thing?" He took the photograph and looked at the young woman. She was thin and had very well-kept red hair and looked very clean unlike her mother sitting before him.

"I always say she got her looks from her father," She smiled nudging him and handed him another picture.

"This is us at the pool the month before she died, we were having such a great time…" She talked on about their great time while Sherlock examined the picture. She didn't look quite as neat and happy as the first picture. As this was a full body shot of her in a bathing suit he could take in a lot more detail. She appeared to have a piece of gauze in her mouth and her jaw was slightly swollen.

"Was she in a bad relationship before she died?" He said looking at the small bruises on her arms and legs.

"Yeah some drunk bastard who used her as a punching bag."

"Then wouldn't it be safe to say he's the one who killed her?" He said thinking it was obvious.

"Well that would be safe to say…if he hadn't been murdered himself a week before her death."

Sherlock furrowed his brow, "Do you have any pictures of him?"

She pulled out her phone and began to flip through to see if she could find one. He took this moment to glance beside him and make sure Molly was still there talking to the older man next to her. She was indeed and had three small empty glasses sitting on the table in front of her.

Considering they had eaten nothing since breakfast he didn't think this was such a good idea. Molly turned around when she noticed him looking her way.

"You okay?" She smiled placing her hand on his leg.

"I'd order some food if I were you Molly," He said glancing at her empty glasses.

"You just worry about your own self, I'm fine," She said, obviously not completely herself at the moment. She turned back around and continued her conversation with the man. Sherlock made sure to make a mental note of this man's appearance and demeanor in case he needed to revisit this information later.

"Here," the lady said when Sherlock turned back around, "Here's the dumb bastard." She handed him her phone. Sherlock was expecting a young thuggish kid, but what he got was a professional looking middle-aged man with a clean face and well-kept hair.

"I know, doesn't look like a drunk, does he? He was very clean and organized and polite as can be when you first meet him. But trust me when I say, he would drop that façade the moment he got home."

"I believe you," Sherlock said. He looked closely at the picture and zoomed the phone in on a place on his neck that had a purplish mark that was almost completely covered up.

"How was he murdered?"

"Knife attack after leaving a bar one night. Cops say it was random and people there say they saw him arguing with a man in a hoodie. No surprise there. He liked to argue, he did. Had to be right about everything."

"How long before her murder was this picture taken?" He handed her back her phone.

"A few days after that pool picture I showed you. I remember specifically because he sent it to Rebecca asking if this would be a good picture for his employers' website."

The lady grabbed her beer and took a drink.

"Got any theories Mr. Detective?"

"Theories? I have the person who did it," He drank again from his own cup.

"You do?" She said tucking the pictures back into her pocket.

"Yes, it's really quite obvious. Your daughter was being cheated on judging by the hickey this man is trying to hide in the photograph. Obviously, your daughter didn't do it having just had dental work done a few days before, so it had to be another woman. Now the other woman found out about your daughter and was obviously upset so she shows up to the bar he's leaving and starts arguing with him, making it look like a bar fight gone bad. I'm assuming she's rather tall and flat chested to be mistaken for a man. She stabs him and goes into hiding for a bit. A week later she goes after your daughter killing her and setting her house on fire to make it look like an accident. It's really quite simple," He said taking another sip. The woman kind of sat in a stupor for a moment.

"And you if want to find her, if she hasn't fled to another country by now, I suggest checking the gyms around the area for a tall, flat chested woman working out as she was obviously quite strong to over power the man and fast to get away from the cops."

"We all thought he was cheating on her, but we didn't know for sure…I guess that's a reasonable guess as to what happened," She said thoughtfully.

"Guess? I'm a famous detective and you think I'm gue-" But he was bumped into by a drunk man who spilled his drink all over Sherlocks shirt.

"Sorry, mate!" The man slurred, laughing. Sherlock wiped his shirt off with some napkins and ignored the man who stumbled off.

He turned to Molly, "Ill be right back," He motioned towards the bathrooms. He noticed a fourth empty glass on the table by her now. She nodded happily at him to say she understood where he was going and continued her conversation.

"Would you mind watching my drink a minute?" He leaned over to the woman whom he had just had a conversation with. She nodded to him but looked rather lost in thought. He sighed and stood. He felt very dizzy and weak for only having one beer. He stood and gathered himself a moment, blaming it on the fact he hadn't eaten, and walked towards the bathroom to try to use water to dab some of the alcohol from his shirt. But while he was standing there the dizzy feeling was only getting worse. He grabbed onto the sink and hung his head over it, gripping the porcelain tightly, willing the nausea to go away. Perhaps he was having a withdrawal symptom, he thought to himself. Whatever it was it wasn't going away. He had to squat down because his legs were getting really weak and he couldn't stand any longer. He leaned his forehead against the sink and squeezed his eyes closed. A man left one of the dirty stalls, washed his hands, and walked past him giving him a weird look. Soon after he felt someone start pulling him and through he tried to fight them off, a kitten could have fought harder than him right now. He couldn't see who it was, and he couldn't stop them. His vision started getting darker.


	10. Chapter 10

Molly took a drink of her fifth glass the bartender grabbed her. She was feeling quite good and was really opening up to those around her. The man she had been talking to was very interesting, she had been talking to him about the museum and he just so happened to have a great grandfather who had worked on the Titanic so of course she was quickly enthralled in conversation. When he finally stepped away to go smoke a cigarette she realized Sherlock had been gone for a few minutes. She looked around but didn't see him anywhere. She figured he would be out in a minute and went back to her drink. She saw he had only drank about three quarters of his own beer.

"Ladies and Gents!" A voice called over the loud speaker, "It's time to crank the music up! Drinks half price for ladies! Come pick your poison and hit the dance floor!"

There was a collective cheer from the crowd and people began making their way to the bar while the music was cranked up to double the volume it was before. Molly watched everyone, laughing at them while they tried to dance drunk. A man came and sat in Sherlock's seat and ordered a drink.

"That seat's taken, sor-" She started to say loudly over the music but she froze. She was looking right at non-other than her ex, Tom.

"Oh, Molly! I'm sorry! I didn't…what are you doing here?" He yelled taking his beer from the bartender and paying him.

"I'm on a trip," She said simply trying to get her thoughts in order, so she didn't seem too drunk. He was dressed to the T like Sherlock. Once upon a time she would have liked this as that's what she wanted him to dress like. Now it was just creepy.

"That's great! I'm glad to see you out and about! I have some family in the area so just here for a weekend visit," He said. He was acting so cheerful like they were old friends. Like he hadn't shown up drunk in her lab threatening her.

"So, tell me how you've been! What have you been up to?" He turned in his chair to face her and sipped his drink, pushing Sherlock's unfinished beer out of the way.

"Tom, you need to leave," She said looking around to make sure Sherlock didn't see her talking to him. There surely would be a fight if he came back to this.

"Me? I just got here! This is a pub, anyone can come and go as they please! And…since I have you alone for a minute I just want to say I'm sorry…" He said a little quieter but still speaking over the music, and put his hand on top of hers which she moved very quickly away and put them in her lap. She didn't look at him and instead stared into her drink.

"Did you hear me, Molly? I'm sorry. And I think you owe it to me to accept this apology as you're the one that cheated on me. So I broke one night and had a few too many…I didn't plan on attacking you, I just wanted you to come home." She glanced at him and swallowed hard feeling really uncomfortable now. He was right this whole situation was her fault. She knew Tom was a good guy and would never hurt her on purpose.

"Ok," She said nodding her head, "Ok fine, I forgive you, Tom. But I really can't talk to you right now."

"That's fine you don't have to talk, I'll do the talking and you just listen," He leaned in a bit closer to her ear so he didn't have to yell, and she shifted uncomfortably.

"You know I would take you back in a heartbeat, right Molly?" She closed her eyes. The alcohol making her unable to control her emotions which were threatening to spill out. The guilt and uncomfortableness were almost too much.

"I miss you. I miss being with you. You know who else misses you? Toby. He looked for you for days after you left…" He said sadly. She sniffed and couldn't stop the tears starting to flow down her cheeks. He leaned back away from her and sighed sadly.

"It's okay. You don't have to say you miss me back. I just had to tell you how I felt. Now it's off my chest and I can move on." There was silence between them for a moment.

"Is…Toby doing ok now?" She asked carefully.

"He's fine. Just lonely I guess. Been moping around since you left."

She nodded wiping her face.

"Who was this seat reserved for by the way?" Tom said looking around the bar, "I don't see anyone coming back for it."

"Sherlock…but…I don't know where he went. He said he was going to the restroom."

"Oh…I just came out of there and didn't see him, that's weird," Tom said.

"He wasn't in there?" She looked at him slightly worried.

"No, there was a few guys at urinals but no one in the stalls or anything. I'm sure of it." He said worriedly. "I'm sure he'll come back in a minute. Maybe he went to smoke or something." He suggested.

"He doesn't smoke anymore and he's a recovering drug addict, Tom. I have to find him," She started to get up. The act of standing made all the alcohol she had been drinking rush straight to her head and she stumbled a little bit trying to get through the crowd of dancing drunks. Everything was spinning a little as she walked. She bumped into someone who immediately turned around to see who had hit them and when they saw her they immediately grabbed her around the waist yelling "Hey sexy!" and tried to dance with her.

"No, I have to go," She said pushing away from him and back into the crowd of people. But he grabbed her again and pulled her against him dancing way too close for comfort.

"She said no, mate!" Tom shoved the guy away and grabbed Molly leading her through the crowd towards the door. They walked out into the cool evening air where it was so much quieter.

"Thanks for that," She slurred to Tom.

"No problem. Now do you have any idea whe-"

They heard a deep voice make a groaning noise from the side of the building.

They made eye contact for a moment and Molly trotted, somehow without falling, to where the noise came from. On the other side of a dumpster she saw a familiar silhouette leaned with his back against the wall slightly slumped over.

She rushed over to him and saw Sherlock looking terrible as she had seen him look way to often lately. His eyes were unfocused and he was acting like he wanted to get up but simply couldn't. It was quite sad to watch. She leaned down and checked him over as best as she could with a fuzzy mind and very little light. She didn't see any obvious signs of trauma.

"Moll…" He panted out, "Help," He said weakly. Tom was standing close by and Molly watched him lean down by the dumpster and pick something up. He seemed to be looking it over and then handed it carefully to Molly. She took it and her heart sank into her stomach. It was a small recapped syringe. Here came the drunk tears that she couldn't stop again. This time she couldn't stop the sob that came out with them. She roughly grabbed Sherlocks arm and sure enough there was a small track mark.

"No…oh my God this isn't happening…" She talked to herself and sat on the ground pulling her knees up to her chest and burying her face in them.

"Please tell me this is a nightmare…please let me wake up…" She said crying hard.

"Molly…" Tom said, "We need to get him somewhere…we can't leave him out here like this…"

She sat quietly a moment and tried to get her tears under control. She took a deep breath in and out to recompose herself.

"You're right. Will you call a cab please, Tom? Were taking him back to the hotel."

"Don't you think we should get him to a hospital?" Tom said unsure of himself. Molly sighed.

"I guess we should. Who knows how much he took. He just got clean so I'm not sure how this will affect him."

They called a cab and went to the nearest hospital. As they wheeled him through the doors in a wheelchair people in the waiting room all stared. Some of them whispering under their breath, others avoiding eye contact all together. They checked him in and since it wasn't very busy they were able to get him in the back pretty quickly. Once the nurse grabbed his chair to wheel him to his room, Molly turned to leave.

"Are you not going to stay with him, dear?" She said in a sweet voice.

"No. I swore if he did this again I wasn't staying with him. I've done my job and brought him here and given you his information and now I'm done. Call his brother Mycroft when he's discharged. The number is in his phone."

The nurses nodded and bit confused and wheeled him back out of sight.

They got back in the cab and Molly gave him the address to the hotel she was in. The driver began to take off and Tom spoke up.

"Actually, can you drop us off at O'Charlies? Its walking distance to the hotel." He looked at Molly to reassure her. She didn't care honestly and looked sadly out of the window. It was quiet for a minute until Tom broke the silence.

"Do you think he will be ok?" He asked.

"He'll be fine. They've probably already given him Narcan and he will be awake any minute now," She said simply.

"Oh…it works that fast?"

"Almost instantly," Molly assured him. Tom looked a little lost in thought.

"He doesn't have a room key, does he? I mean, I don't want him coming in and hurting you is all…"

"No, I have them both in my pocket. I never want to see him again. Not even for him to get his stuff from the room. I'll send it with his brother." She said monotonal. Tom grabbed her hand and she didn't move it away this time. Why should she care? She was now a single woman again…

"Everything is gonna be ok, Molly. I promise." He said. It felt so weird to have Tom saying nice things to her like this and holding her hand like this. It just didn't feel right. In fact, this whole situation gave her a weird feeling. Sherlock had been doing so well…why would he relapse so randomly like this? And where did he even get the drugs from? He didn't have his coat or anything and she hadn't seen him slip anything in his pocket at any point. But then again, she supposed an addict would find a way if he wanted to.

They arrived at the bar and Tom paid the fare.

"This is a small place, I think you'll like it a lot better than that busy pub we were at."

It was indeed a lot smaller and quieter. There were a few people playing pool and others sitting at the bar sipping drinks with some music faintly playing. Tom grabbed her hand to lead her in and they took a seat up at the bar.

"What can I get for you, mate?" A younger, good looking bar tender said to Tom.

"You were drinking vodka at the other place, right? Better stick to it so you don't get sick later," He turned to the man, "A vodka cranberry and house beer please."

"This is all on me, Molly, you get anything you want."

Molly nodded. The first drink was gone rather quickly as she desperately thought the alcohol would make her forget what was happening. Tom quickly ordered her another and she sipped it.

"You know," He started halfway through his own beer already, "I know you don't want to hear this, but I have to say it…you chose a sociopathic drug addict over me. Okay, he's a good looking, smart, famous detective…whatever. I just have one question. Why? Why wouldn't you just break up with me first? I didn't deserve to be cheated on like that…I gave you everything! You had no reason to treat me that way," He said with hurt in his eyes.

Molly took another drink her head beginning to swim again.

"I don't know, Tom. I had liked him since I could remember. He showed me a little attention and I just lost myself, okay? I don't want to talk about him right now. In fact, I don't want to talk about him ever again."

"Okay. Fine. It's all in the past now and we can focus on us again," He took another big sip of his drink. Tom tried to talk to her about all kinds of different things. Molly continued to drink and only engage when he made her. She was now on her fourth cup and feeling comfortably numb.

"I'm gonna run to the bathroom," She slurred out and slid uncoordinatedly off her stool. She managed to find her way to the bathroom and back without falling or running into anyone and Tom had a fresh cup ready for her. She was already so far gone she figured what the hell and downed it too.

"Wanna play pool?" She said hoping it would take her mind further off things.

"Of course!" Tom seemed happy for her attention.

They played the first round with Molly losing horribly, but she actually found herself smiling and laughing as they played more. She ordered another drink and sipped it as they played the next round. She was finding it hard to stand now and the room was really spinning. But she felt good. She felt so free and loose now like she didn't have a care in the world. She began to sway with the music playing and closing her eyes. She felt wonderful! She grabbed Tom and swayed in time with the beat of the song. He laughed and tried to steady her.

"Come on, I think you've had enough. Let's get you back to your room," He said putting the pool sticks away and leading her by the waist to the door while she was still trying to dance.

"But I'm just starting to have fun!" She said pleadingly.

"I know but you're gonna regret it if we don't get you some sleep soon, trust me," He kept a grip on her as they walked down the street towards the hotel. She began laughing at every little thing he said. She couldn't help it, she was just in such a good mood now!

Tom grabbed the hotel key fob from her pocket and let them into the room turning the light on and shutting the door behind them. Molly went to the bed and jump into it laying spread out enjoying its clean smell and softness.

"Here," Tom said, "Drink some water so you don't get a headache tomorrow," He handed her a bottle. She sat up and sat cross legged on the comforter taking the bottle from him.

"I can't thank you enough for tonight, Tom. Seriously I don't know what I would have done without you. You just always know what to do…" She said trying to keep her voice as normal as possible. He sat next to her and kicked his shoes off then took hers off for her, throwing them by the door. Molly sat her water bottle on the bedside table and lay back in the bed again. She was watching the ceiling spinning by itself somehow when Tom's lips pressed up to hers in an attempted kiss. It took her by surprise and she pulled away and stared at him for a second. But her drunk brain told her 'fuck it' and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back in to kiss him deeper. But as soon as things started to get hot, something clicked in her brain that this wasn't right. She pulled away and sat up.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"This…this isn't right. I shouldn't be doing this," She said looking confused around the room.

"It's okay, Molly. It's not anything we haven't done before," He laughed.

"I know but it…feels different this time," She struggled to explain herself.

"It's just everything you've been through tonight. Lay back here with me, it's okay," He said persuasively. She hesitated but did lay back again feeling rather uncomfortable now.

She felt her phone vibrating in her pocket and pulled it out and only had it in her hand long enough to see it was Sherlock calling before Tom aggressively grabbed it and put it in his pants pocket.

"You don't need to worry about him. He'll only do it again and disappoint you. Just relax and I'll run you a bath," He got up and went into the bathroom to turn the water on while Molly lay there trying to remember what was wrong with Sherlock. He was in the hospital, right? Yes, and she was extremely mad at him. The memory of seeing the used syringe flashed back in her brain.

Tom came back around the doorway and helped sit her up. He quickly pulled her shirt off and she felt a little disgusted. She pushed his hands away when he started trying to undo her jeans and he kept pushing them out of the way to get to the button.

"Stop…I don't like this," She said uneasily sitting on the bed pulling her legs up to her. Tom sighed, "It's nothing I haven't seen before, I'm just trying to help you," He said calmly.

"No. I don't want your help," She said a bit slurred. But she was trying to act as normal as possible now because something deep inside her was screaming danger.

"Okay fine. Do it yourself then," He said throwing his hands in the air and backing off of her.

Molly slowly slid off the bed, keeping an eye on Tom. She couldn't explain why she felt the need to do this, but she just did. She drunkenly made her way into the bathroom and closed the door, locking it quickly. She backed up until her back hit the sink and then she allowed herself to sit on the ground. She put her head in her hands and rubbed her temples trying to clear her thoughts. Why had she let herself drink that much? She was so stupid. She shouldn't be in here alone with Tom. Oh, if Sherlock knew he would…but that thought was quickly replaced with sadness. It didn't matter what Sherlock thought anymore. She was done with him. She had to be for her own mental health.

She pushed herself up off the floor and undressed, quickly sinking into the hot water and turning the faucet off. She only allowed herself a minute to soak, then cleaned up and drained the water. As she stepped back out and grabbed a towel to dry off she realized she had no clean clothes in here to change into. Her heart sank.

"Hey…Tom," She called out to him. There was no answer, "Tom?" She tried again. But the room was oddly quiet. She thought with a spark of hope that he may have fallen asleep. She wrapped the towel tightly around her body and unlocked the door as quietly as possible, opening it just a crack. She peaked out and saw Tom laying on the bed. From here he appeared to be asleep. So, she risked it and quietly got over to her small suitcase unzipping it and pulling a pair of panties on without removing her towel. She dug for a pair of shorts and a shirt to sleep in. It was quite difficult to focus and be quiet, but she managed. She turned away from the bed and clumsily dropped the towel. She fumbled for her long shirt she had grabbed and just threw it on to cover herself. Then she pulled the shorts on. She didn't worry about her wet hair hanging in wavy strands down her back. She was so tired and drunk all she wanted to do was sleep at the moment. She figured with Tom asleep the threat was gone so turned the lights off and gently as she could got into the bed and covered up. Tom immediately turned over towards her and pulled her back to his front.

"Stop it," She said groggily, trying wiggle out of his grip. But he held on tightly. She gave up fighting, sighed and just decided to ignore it and try to sleep.

She heard her phone vibrating in Tom's pocket and either he slept through it or just ignored it. Silence for another moment. Then the buzzing again.

Tom sighed angrily and pulled the phone from his pocket. He must have turned it off before he tossed it on the floor because he said something about not being bothered by him anymore tonight. Then he snuggled a bit closer to Molly, holding onto her tightly. Molly's head swam, and her thoughts were a jumbled mess, but after a few long confusing minutes, she finally drifted off to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Molly woke up a few times through the night and took drinks of her water in an attempt to keep a headache from forming later. Tom surprisingly didn't try to do anything more than cuddle her through the night which made her more and more relaxed with him and by early morning she had passed out hard.

"I'm not going to rehab, I don't need it! I'm not an addict!" Sherlock fought with the nurses for the tenth time. He had been attempting to leave since he had come back around, and these bloody people wouldn't stop running tests and trying to get him to stay for rehab. He had fallen asleep at some point throughout the night from pure exhaustion, but he had just woken up bright and early and now wanted out again. He didn't know where Molly was, he didn't know how he had gotten here, and he sure as hell didn't know how drugs had gotten in his system. He remembered drinking in the pub, the lady sitting next to him, and going to the bathroom. But after that it was all blurry. And his head hurt too badly to think too far into it at the moment.

"Listen, sir. If you want to leave we can't make you stay. But please, please go and get some help! Drugs are a bad problem around here and you're lucky your friends brought you here when they did. You very well might have died-"  
"Friends?" He said looking at her confused.

"Yes, a short girl and a taller guy. She said to call your brother to come pick you up by the way. She was extremely upset with you," She gave him an unapproving look.

"Calling my brother would be less than helpful. I need to go, now," He said getting out of bed and beginning to throw his clothes back on. He had to sign a paper and get the I.V. out of his arm and then he headed out into the crisp morning air, tossing the paper they had given him for a nearby rehab facility in the garbage. He had to wait a few minutes for a cab to drive by, but he finally got one and told him the hotel he was staying at. When they arrived a few minutes later Sherlock paid him and quickly made his way into the hotel. He remembered which room they were staying in and made his way up the stairs to get to it. As he finally reached the door he fumbled around in his pockets. Where was his key fob? He searched his wallet and everything and it was nowhere to be seen. Oh well he must have lost it last night. He lightly knocked on the door. There was no answer. He knocked slightly harder this time.

"Molly, it's me. Open the door I can't find my key," This time he heard movement and breathed a sigh of relief. The door cracked open and he was greeted by a tall, sleepy looking man. Sherlock immediately went on the defensive, scared for Molly's wellbeing.

"Where is she?" He said trying to shove past him, but he held the door tightly with his foot behind it.

"She's fine, no thanks to you, who left her alone drunk in a bar last night," He said bitterly.

"Let me see her," He said angrily and stopped trying to push him. Tom cracked the door open a bit more and moved slightly so he could see Molly's small form asleep on the bed.

"See? She's fine." Tom said stepping back in front of his view.

"I need to talk to her," Sherlock said.

"No. She said she never wants to talk to you again," Tom said trying to close the door. Sherlock put his foot in the way and tried pushing the door open again.

"Molly!" He yelled trying to look past Tom. The two struggled against each other.

"She doesn't want to see you!" Tom said getting angrier in his tone of voice.

"Then let her tell me that herself!" Sherlock said back equally as angry.

"What don't you understand about 'she doesn't want to talk to you'? She's done with you! She doesn't want you anymore!" He practically yelled. Sherlock didn't understand and knew he had to be lying, the more Tom talked the angrier he became. He shoved at the door harder.

"Tom? What's going on?" They both heard and stopped fighting to look and see Molly sitting up on the bed.

"Molly!" Sherlock said in relief, "Tell him to let me in. I need to talk to you."

"…What are you doing here?" She seemed uneasy. Tom stepped out of the way a bit so they could see each other but still kept a tight grip on the door.

"What do you…Molly this is our hotel room. What are you doing here alone with this psychopath? Do you have any idea what he could have done-"

"But he didn't. He made sure I got back safely. He took care of me last night while you were high," He could see the hurt in her face.

"This has been a big misunderstanding, I didn't shoot up last night, Molly I swear. I promised I would never do that to you again and I meant it!"

"Oh, so someone just shot up for you?" She stood looking at him angrily now. Tom moved out of the way completely when she walked over to the door. Sherlock let go of the door when she walked over and took a step back.

"You're lying to me. Again," She said angrily looking up at him.

"No, I swear, you know I would never-"

"No, I don't Sherlock. I can't trust you anymore. And I won't have my heart broken over and over again. You chose drugs over me last night. You made your bed and now you have to lie in it." She backed up and slammed the door. Sherlock stood there stunned for a moment. The door opened again briefly, and she threw his bag full of clothes out at him and slammed the door again. He backed up and slid down the wall in the hallway putting his head in his hands. He knew he didn't shoot up. He didn't have any drugs on him, he had no reason to do it, he hadn't even been thinking about drugs. This whole situation didn't make any sense. He closed his eyes and tried to remember any details from last night that he could. God his head hurt. He looked at his left arm but didn't see any track mark which was odd because he was right handed so it was much easier to use his left arm to find a vein. He checked his right and sure enough there was the little dot. Now why couldn't he remember how he had gotten it? He sat there in silence for a few minutes. He could hear voices and noises through the door, but he didn't move. If she didn't want to see him he would give her time, but he didn't want to go far because he didn't trust Tom the least little bit. What exactly was he doing here anyway? He just happened to be in the same pub in the same city two hours away from home? It sounded fishy to him. So, he simply sat and pulled his phone out to text his brother.

"Are you okay, Molly?" Tom said carefully as she hadn't come out of the bathroom for a good ten minutes now and had heard puking noises,

"I'm fine," Molly said wiping her face on the cool rag again. Throwing up actually made her feel much better and she leaned back closing her eyes. She normally didn't throw up after drinking, but she figured it was all the stress and emotions that she had woken up to. She figured the sooner they got back to London the better. She brushed her teeth, came out of the bathroom, and without a word to Tom, began dressing and packing.

"You want to leave already?" Tom asked curiously.

"Yes. I want to go home. I want to get my stuff from Sherlock's before he comes back and then sit on the couch with Toby and binge watch Netflix until I've forgotten everything that happened last night," She said firmly.

"Let me ring my friend and see if he will give you a ride. It would be hard to get a plane ticket on such short notice," And he grabbed his phone from his pocket and walked into the bathroom to talk while she got ready. She saw her phone laying on the ground and picked it up. It was off and without turning it back on, she stuck it in her pocket. She finished packing and a minute later Tom came out smiling.

"He said he'd send a jet for you, should be less than an hour," He said happily.

"You aren't coming too?" She asked.

"No, I've got all my stuff with family still. I need to get my stuff then I'll just fly home tomorrow when I planned to," He said. Of course, he was here with family she didn't want him to skip seeing them for something stupid like this. Molly didn't care enough to ask who this friend was or how they would be here so quickly. She just wanted to get home and if this made it quicker, than it was fine. When they had everything ready, Tom grabbed her bag and slung it over his shoulder and they opened the door. Sherlock was standing there with his own bag, seemingly ready to follow them. Molly gave him a dirty look and walked right by him without a word, making her way quickly down the hallway.

"Are you leaving?" She heard him say behind them, keeping up with them no problem.

"Who's taking you back? Where will you be once you get there?" He pressed on. She refused to acknowledge his existence and made her way quickly down the stairs to the lobby.

"Will you text me at least and let me know you made it?" He said desperately as she handed the lady at the desk the keys to check out. They walked outside, and she tried quickly to hail a taxi.

"Tom, I swear if you hurt her-" Tom turned aggressively towards him.

"I think you've hurt her enough for both of us," He stepped up closer to him almost whispering, "She's none of your concern anymore. So why don't you fuck off before you make a fool of yourself further, hmm?"

"Tom!" Molly snapped seeing the two men about to square up. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him back over to her.

"Don't waste your time. Junkies never learn," She said turning back to the street. A cab finally pulled over and Tom handed Molly her bag as she climbed in then went up to the driver's window and told him where she needed to go.

Sherlock stood back from the scene and watched. Molly's door was still open, and Tom leaned in giving her what was supposed to be a peck on the lips, but she looked uncomfortably away at the last second and he got her on the cheek instead. Sherlock rolled his eyes and had to fight to urge to go punch the man in the face.

As the cab pulled away, Sherlock turned away quickly and pulled his phone out.

As Molly boarded the small luxury jet, she got an uneasy feeling. She had no idea who owned this and here she was getting on without a second thought. The man who helped her with her things seemed nice enough and put her a little more at ease. It wasn't a super long flight, but she fell asleep rather quickly once they were up in the air. When she awoke, they were just touching down. She looked out of the window sleepily and didn't see anything that looked like London where they were landing. In fact, there was nothing but trees and hills. It was quite beautiful, but it obviously wasn't where she wanted to be.

When the plane came to a complete halt and the nice man came to help her with her bag, she asked him, "Excuse me but…where are we? I was supposed to be brought to London."

"Oh, you're about to be in Appledore, miss. I'm sure there's a good reason. People don't just get to come here over nothing," he smiled and assisted her off the jet.


	12. Chapter 12

Molly had never in her life heard of such a place as Appledoor. Maybe Tom had planned something as a surprise though. She guessed she would find out. She was assisted as far as the front door, then the man walked back towards the private air strip. She stood looking up at the impressive and smart looking building a moment before she rang the doorbell. She then looked around a bit more. A very rich person indeed lived here. When she heard the door open she looked back around to see the creepy man whom she had seen two times too many smiling at her from the door way.

She stood frozen a minute, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. His smile was not that of a normal human. It looked…dead…like his eyes.

"Molly, welcome to my home. Please, won't you come in?" He said politely and stepped aside ushering her in. Her legs were screaming not to go forward. But what could she do? Its not like she could run from this man, as rich as he was she was sure he had people everywhere watching them. She swallowed and slowly stepped forward through the doorway. She needed to play it cool like last time. It may be her only chance of getting back out of this place.

"Here, let me take your bag," He insisted, and she gave it to him. He threw it carelessly by the door and continued walking. She followed but not too closely, she wanted to leave a space between them in case he tried anything.

"Do you know Tom then?" She asked.

"I guess you could say that. I know his weaknesses. And that's really all you need to know about a person, isn't it?" He glanced back at her and grinned.

"Depends," She said quietly.

"On what?" He pressed her. They arrived in a beautiful modern dining room that was nearly completely walled with windows looking out onto nothing but grassy hills.

"On what you want with the person, I suppose."

She heard him chuckle a little and she looked around in awe at the room.

"Beautiful isn't it?" He said and sat in a chair towards the end of the table, pulling the one out beside it for her to sit in.

"If you don't mind me asking, how do you afford all this?" She said taking her seat.

"You're a curious one, aren't you?"

A man in a suit walked in with a cup of tea for each of them and a plate of biscuits.

"Is that why you liked Mr. Holmes? Are you a bit of a detective yourself?" He took a sip of his cup while the suited man walked away silently. She shifted uncomfortably.

"I liked him because I could see a side of him he never let anyone else see. He wears a front for everyone. But he never cared enough about me to let me see it, which in a way was good. I got to see sides of him other people could only dream of. Even his best friend. But…none of that matters anymore. I obviously didn't mean as much to him as I thought I did," She twisted her cup around not drinking.

"I think there's more to you then what most people realize, Molly," He said. Molly let out a sarcastic laugh.

"I'm about as plain as they come."

The man stared at her hard for a moment.

"No. Ordinary people don't enjoy cutting up cadavers for a living, do they?"

"Well I don't _enjoy_ it-"

"No but it's the perfect job for someone like you, isn't it? Smart girl with no close family. Used to being alone, no one to listen to you. But bodies listen. They don't have a choice."

"I…suppose you're right," She said quietly, "So…why have you brought me here?"

"No reason I suppose. Just wanted a friendly chat."

She rolled her eyes and added sugar to her tea.

"You could have just called me then…"

"I find being face to face with someone to be much more appealing," He said creepily.

"We don't even know each other, so why would it matter?" She took a sip.

He stared at her with that creepy smile on his face for a full minute. As if he was reading her or something.

"You know…I told Tom to get you here by any means necessary, and he chose to act compassionately with you. He didn't use force, he didn't drug you, he didn't do anything bad to you at all. Why do you think that is?" He said as if talking about the weather.

Molly stared at him with a confused look on her face obviously not entirely grasping what he was talking about and instead sipping her tea. He leaned back in his chair.

"I would say it's because he still cares about you…wouldn't you agree?"

"I…guess so. Why do you think he would have had to hurt me to get me here?"

"Because you don't trust him," He immediately replied, "And for you, Molly, that takes some doing. You are quick to trust anyone and think everyone has something good inside them. So, what has he done to make you feel that he is untrustworthy?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and stayed silent. He simply stared at her a moment then spoke.

"If you don't want to tell me it's fine, I'll just ask him. Then again I do like to hear both sides of the story…I suppose that's why I made such a good journalist when I was younger."

"I trusted him until…" She fiddled with her mug a moment, "Until I…" But she couldn't say it out loud. It made her feel dirty.

Magnussen spoke quietly, "Until you cheated on him."

Molly nodded, "Yes…and after that he started becoming someone I had never seen before. He was angry, drinking, sending threatening texts…"

"Well wouldn't you say he had good reason to?" He leaned forward in his chair now, giving her a questioning look.

"…Yes…I suppose I deserved all that stuff," Molly wouldn't look him in the eye, she simply gazed into her tea.

"Fascinating…" He said to himself.

Molly glanced up, "What?" She said with a small laugh.

"You. The way you view yourself and others. The way you just accept whatever fate comes your way and do nothing to try to change it."

"Oh, come on, I wouldn't say that…"

"Your father died of cancer, yes?" He didn't skip a beat. It took Molly by surprise to say the least. How would he even know that?

"Yes," She said simply, determined not to look at him.

"And your mother died from an accident when you were a child?"

She gripped her mug tightly. She didn't like to talk about these things, especially to a stranger.

"No siblings, grandparents from both sides deceased, only an uncle who lives in America that you don't speak to-"

"How do you know all this?" She said slightly angry.

"It's my job to know these things," He said smiling, "I also know your uncle doesn't talk to you because he thinks it's your fault your mother died and that was his only sibling."

Molly froze. No one should know that. She hadn't told a soul about it.

Her voice shook as she spoke. "I was very young. I can hardly remember it, all I know is I wandered out into the street and the next thing I know she was laying there covered in blood."

Magnussen spoke softly, still leaned forward staring at her. "And they kept her alive for three days at the hospital isn't that right?"

Molly nodded, a hot tear running down her cheek as she held her mug tightly. The man seemed unaffected by her emotion and pressed on.

"Do _you_ think you killed her?"

Molly wiped her face on her sleeve, "Of course I do." The tears fell freely now, "Of course I killed her. She would still be alive if it wasn't for me, so what else could I think?"

"Interesting…"

Molly rolled her eyes and put her face in her hands for a moment trying to calm down.

"Anyway, back to business, I can't help but wonder, why didn't you ever look in Sherlocks dresser like I told you?"

"I…didn't have a reason to," She said simply, her face still in her hands. She sniffled and wiped her face and finally looked at him. He shook his head laughing quietly.

"See, there is that too trusting attitude again. If you had been just a bit more skeptical of things you would have been saved a lot of heart break."

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"You could have broken it off with him ages ago. Not been so emotionally involved with him by that point. But you didn't take my advice."

Molly kind of stared at him not knowing what he was talking about. Why would she have wanted to break it off with him over something in his dresser?

"Would you like to see what it was?" He said while watching her carefully. Molly stayed silent, her heart beating faster. Did she want to?

"Here I'll make the decision for you," He said and stood to walk out of the room for a moment. He came back in with a small brown paper bag that had the top folded over and tossed it on the table in front of her before retaking his seat.

She stared at it a moment, unsure if she really wanted to open it. But her curiosity got the better of her and she slowly grabbed the bag and shook the contents out onto the table. A small pair of lacy underwear fell out. She had never seen them before and wasn't really sure of what she was supposed to think right now.

"It's…just underwear," She said confused looking up at him.

"Are they yours?" He asked calmly.

"No…" She said softly.

"Then why were they hidden away in Sherlocks drawer?"

Molly stayed silent. Surely, he wasn't insinuating Sherlock had been sleeping with another woman. He wouldn't do that.

"He would never have cheated on me," She said shaking her head and leaning back in her chair, refusing to believe what was in front of her, "It's probably for a case or something. He has weird stuff lying around all the time."

"But who's to say what a drug addict can do when he's high?" Magnussen pushed her further.

"I know Sherlock and I know he wouldn't do that…" Molly said seriously, going on the defensive. He may be an arse but he would never have hurt her that way. She tried to solidify her defense, "It's a wonder he even slept with me, we all thought he was asexual for a while. I was blown away when he started giving me attention."

Magnussen stared at her with his dead eyes.

"Besides, it doesn't matter anymore anyway. We aren't together," She said.

"Yes, Tom told me about his little relapse he had. Shame for him to waste such a brilliant mind…" The man seemed lost in thought for a moment. Molly jumped when there came a loud pounding at the front door.

"Oh, don't worry…I was expecting company," Magnussen said. He called for the man who had brought them tea into the room and told him to answer the door.


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock banged on the door again harder this time. He knew Magnussen was in there and had Molly doing God knows what with her. Finally, a young man answered the door and Sherlock immediately pushed him out of the way before he could say anything and walked briskly into the clean white house. He looked into several different rooms but saw no one.

"I know you're here Magnussen!" He yelled, "Show yourself!"

He heard from somewhere to his right, a man's voice.

"We're here in the dining hall, no need to shout."

Sherlock began walking down the hall from where the voice led to. He walked into the large dining room and saw both the man and Molly sitting towards the end with mugs on the table. He could tell by Molly's face that she had been crying recently.

"Are you hurt, Molly?" He asked walking towards the pair of them.

"Does she look hurt to you?" Magnussen said still sitting but looking up at him.

"I'm fine," Molly said bitterly, secretly extremely happy to see him here if only for the fact he would protect her. She felt much more at ease now. Sherlock took in the details of the room and saw the bag and underwear sitting on the table.

"How did you get that?" He said to Magnussen.

"I have people," The creepy man smiled. Sherlock stared at him a moment, things suddenly beginning to click into place in his mind.

"I assume your acquainted with Tom too, are you?" Sherlock asked.

"I know his pressure points. Just like I know yours," He smiled that dead smile staring at Sherlock who stared right back.

"And John's, and your land lady's, and Molly's…" The two stared unblinkingly at each other. Molly watched the scene uncomfortably, unable to look away. It was as if the two were reading each other's minds. Then the silence broke as Sherlock spoke.

"Let's go, Molly. I have a lot to explain." He began to walk out of the room expecting her to follow. But he didn't hear footsteps behind him and stopped to look back. Magnussen had his hand on Molly's arm as if to make sure she didn't go anywhere. The sight made him angry…but he kept his cool.

"I think everyone in the room would like to hear what you have to explain," Magnussen said calmly. Sherlock stayed silent a moment.

"Molly, come on. We're going home."

But she didn't move. She looked away from him. As uncomfortable as this man made her she couldn't sit in a plane and listen to Sherlock's excuses the whole way home because if she did…she just knew she would stupidly take him back. And she couldn't be that girl.

"Doesn't look like she's going anywhere…so why not stay and have a chat with me? You seem to have it all figured out, so enlighten me," Magnussen grinned. Sherlock was tired of this game. If he wanted to 'have a chat' he would give it to him. He slowly began walking back towards the two of them.

"You have been watching me ever since my drug problem hit the papers, seeing if you could get another good article or two out of me. The man who's letters I wanted returned has just recently committed suicide so that game was over, you didn't have anything else to blackmail me with so your using Molly instead."

"Me?" Molly laughed.

"Yes, he knew we were going to Ireland, he knew about the pub because he had people listening in the café that day you and Mrs. Hudson were discussing it, and he simply had someone to watch us and let him know the precise moment to strike."

"Well that's a bit dramatic," Magnussen laughed, watching him as though this was an interesting soap opera.

"Oh, you like dramatic Charles, don't you? That's why you and Tom came up with a plan together. One that poor Tom thought would benefit him, but unfortunately, I'm about to ruin that too. You had to get Molly here, obviously, to lure me in and you knew she wouldn't come here willingly, not if she knew where she was going anyway. So, you send Tom out to the pub when you know we have arrived. Someone spikes my drink which is why I got so sick in the bathroom and that's the last thing I remember until I woke up in the hospital later that night. Now once Molly told me I had 'shot up' I knew something was wrong right then. You had Tom inject the drugs into my system and make it look like I had done it myself so that Molly would have no one else to go to but him. Then all he had to do was get her on a plane as if she was going to London but send her here instead. The plan worked beautifully and here you are, digging up dirt on an innocent woman and trying to warp her views of me even though I've done nothing wrong. All of this for what, a good news story? You think people want to read about this kind of tabloid trash?" He stood directly in front of Magnussen.

Molly was so confused and trying to process everything Sherlock had just said. Surely all of that couldn't be true. It just seemed too farfetched. She waited for Magnussen to stick up for himself.

"You are as clever as they say, aren't you?" He replied. Molly furrowed her brow while she looked at him in disbelief.

"Excuse me, what?" She interjected.

"He got everything right. Well…almost everything. I didn't do this for the papers. I did it for my own selfish enjoyment. I simply like to watch real life drama unfold. It's so much more interesting than television and magazines. Wouldn't you say, Mr. Holmes?" He laughed.

"What about the underwear?" Molly said motioning to the lacy panties on the table.

"Molly, I've had those for ages waiting to tell you at the right moment-"

"For ages?" She laughed incredibly, "And to tell me what?" She stood. Sherlock stared at her now instead of Magnussen.

"That I wasn't the only woman you seduced?" She shook her head closing her eyes briefly. Then began to walk out of the room, "This is all too much."

"Molly, I found those at your flat when you were packing," Sherlock said looking at the floor. He knew this wouldn't be easy for her to process either. She stopped in her tracks.

"Months ago. And I knew they weren't yours so…I kept them in case one day I had to tell you…"

"Tell me what?" She said quietly. She already knew what Sherlock was about to say but it still hurt none the less.

"Tom was cheating on you."

She closed her eyes again trying to stop the tears, purposely avoiding looking in the men's direction.

"I know," She said meekly.

This took Sherlock by surprise and he took a step towards her.

"I caught him once. When we first started dating. But I forgave him and thought I was just making a big deal out of it because we had only just started getting to know each other. So, I took him back. Then before me and you…you know…I had started finding evidence again." She sniffled, and Sherlock walked towards her.

"But I was stupid and refused to believe what was right in front of me. I absolutely refused to think he would hurt me like that…"

Sherlock gently touched her arm.

"Let's go home," He said quietly. She nodded silently, letting the tears fall freely. He held her around the waist and started to guide her out of the room. He heard clapping coming from behind them. He turned and saw Magnussen smiling and slowly clapping as if this was some show.

"Bravo," He said in an impressed tone and stood, putting his hands in his pockets. "That was even better than I imagined it in my head. You really do care for her, don't you?" He said to Sherlock specifically.

"Of course, I do," He replied.

"I didn't mean any disrespect…I only mean you have used people for cases in the past, haven't you? In fact, you have even used Molly."

"Yes, and we've moved past that so if that's all, were leaving now," He turned and started walking out again. Magnussen didn't stop them this time but followed them out to the front door. Mycroft's helicopter was on the pad nearby. Mycroft himself not in it, but rather some people he had working for him. As Sherlock and Molly stood waiting for the helicopter to get ready to go, Magnussen stood by them. Sherlock kept his arm tightly around Molly trying his best to ignore his presence.

Molly turned to Magnussen suddenly, "Was it you that texted me?"

He gave her an inquiring look and Sherlock looked at her confused.

"The day we went to Ireland. I got a text from an unknown number. I've only just remembered."

She pulled her phone out and turned it on then flipped through her phone and brought the text up.

"Here," She handed it to Sherlock who looked at it.

"I thought it was a friend from work, but it was you, wasn't it? You were giving me a heads up in a way, even though I didn't know what was going on."

Magnussen laughed. "I was wondering if you were going to bring that up."

"So, it was you?" She said to him.

"No," Sherlock said. Molly turned to him. Sherlock recognized the number immediately. He handed her her phone back.

"Really?" She said giving Sherlock a questioning look. She honestly didn't have any idea who else it could be. Magnussen spoke making Molly look back at him again.

"I assure you I am not in the generation that texts everyone. If I wanted your attention I would just…show up."

"But you know who sent it?" She inquired.

"Forget it, Molly. I have a feeling you'll find out soon enough," Sherlock said not looking at her. The man finally waved them over to the helicopter and they trotted over to it, Sherlock ducking slightly. Once they were all buckled in and ready to go, the helicopter took off. It was too loud to talk with the headphones off and their conversation would not be private if they spoke to each other through them, so Molly simply stayed quiet. She watched Magnussen smiling at them from the ground as they rose higher into the air. She would be happy if she never saw him again, she knew that for sure. But she also knew that probably wouldn't be the case. He had brought her here to torment her with her past for a reason. And she felt nervous thinking about who's number that was on her phone that Sherlock recognized it immediately. She supposed she would find all the details of this day out soon enough.


	14. Chapter 14

Molly and Sherlock rode in silence in a cab back to their flat. Molly more confused and exhausted than before. She kept trying to think of who could have texted her, but no one came to mind. Sherlock on the other hand seemed to know exactly who it was, and he was not happy about it. He seemed to be mentally absent and she knew it was no use talking to him when he was like this. They walked into the flat and dropped their bags in the living room. Molly immediately changed into sweatpants and a tank top and went and laid down. She put her phone on the night stand beside the bed and tried to sleep. She didn't hear Sherlock and figured he must have fallen asleep on the couch while he was busy thinking. She tossed and turned, falling in and out of sleep, so mentally tired but her mind just wouldn't turn off. She glanced at her phone at one point and saw it was nearly three AM. She sighed and turned over again. Just as she closed her eyes again, she faintly heard Sherlocks voice coming from the living area of the flat. She immediately perked up and opened her eyes.

"You can't just show up whenever you like, things are different now."

Much to Molly's surprise she heard a female voice answer.

"Oh, come on, let me see her. I just want a little peek..."

"Absolutely not. She's not safe as it is with Magnussen prying. You need to leave."

"And go where?" The female asked sassily.

"I don't know but you can't stay here," Sherlock answered.

"I'll stay in John's old room. Come on it will be like old times!"

With that Molly sat up, furrowing her brow. She had never been so confused as to what was going on, and she certainly didn't like the direction this conversation was going.

"You're getting soft, Sherlock, that's what it is. The Sherlock I knew would never care this much about anyone. Except maybe John…"

"Listen, she's different okay? I can't explain it I just…I can't…"

"Oh my God. Sherlock Holmes just might be in love…I never thought I'd see the day…"

"Keep it down. It's been a long weekend for both of us. She needs to rest."

Molly couldn't stand it any longer, she was wide awake already anyway, she may as well go out and see what was going on. She opened the door and crept through the kitchen, folding her arms in an unsure, protective way over her chest. She peeked around the corner to see who was here. The woman was facing away from her telling Sherlock something quietly. Sherlock spotted Molly and quickly tried to usher the woman out the door. She caught on and turned around, Molly and her making eye contact. Molly thought she looked familiar though she couldn't place where. She was very neat, clean, and stern looking. Yet she had a playful gleam in her eye. Molly admitted that she was very pretty, her long dark hair drawn up in a fancy bun and her clothes very form fitting and expensive. And here she stood in her old pajamas without a bra on, hair a mess, and probably circles under her eyes. She tightened her arms in front of her chest feeling a bit exposed now.

"Hello," She said in a meek voice, unsure of what else to say. The woman stared at her a moment and seemed to look her up and down. Boy she wished she would have had the sense to put a robe on now.

"Well, hello there. It's nice to finally meet you! Sherlock has spoken so much about you, but I never thought we would meet." She seemed to stare a second longer, then finally she stepped forward and so did Molly so they could shake hands. She was only slightly taller than Molly and had a little more curve in her hips.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to be rude but-"

"Who am I and what am I doing here?" The woman smiled at her.

"Yes, exactly," Molly breathed a sigh of relief she didn't have to say it.

"She's no one, just an old friend. And she was just leaving," Sherlock said trying to usher her towards the door again.

"I'm Irene Adler and I know Sherlock from a case he had awhile back," She answered ignoring Sherlock.

"Oh, did you…have some trouble or something?" She said trying to be nice.

"I was the trouble," She smiled playfully, "And I nearly died because of it but Sherlock here saved my neck. Quite literally…"

Molly glanced up at Sherlock who didn't seem to be acting himself. He was nervous and didn't seem to want her here at all.

"Well any friend of Sherlocks is a friend of mine, and if you need a place to stay, you're welcome to crash here for a bit," Molly said politely smiling.

Irene turned to Sherlock smiling slyly, taking her coat off and laying it on a chair.

"Thank you. I'm honestly surprised to see Sherlock with someone so nice. I thought he would need someone a bit more…domineering."

Sherlock cleared his throat, "Well I'm sure everyone is tired, so I think it best if we all went to bed."

"Yes, I think that's best too," Irene said, "I'll go make myself at home in John's room. Don't worry, I won't disturb you two a bit." And with that, she made her way up to the empty room. Molly was left staring at Sherlock who seemed to not want to make eye contact with her.

He closed the front door and locked it, then started towards the bedroom walking right past Molly without saying a word. She turned the light out and followed him to the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

"So…are you going to tell me why an old client of yours just showed up at three in the morning and is staying the night?"

"You told her she could-"

"What else was I going to say, Sherlock? Where would she find a room this late? I'm not heartless!"

"Listen, Molly…I honestly don't know why she has come here. But she's the woman who texted you the other day, and I have a feeling Magnussen put her up to this. Why? I have no idea. I can only assume it's just to start turmoil between us. He really has it out for me lately."

"But why would her being here make us argue?" Molly laughed nervously, "Unless…"

"Before you get any rash ideas in your head, Molly, no we did not date or sleep together or anything else you may be thinking of the sort."

"But you fancied her. And I think…yeah…she fancies you too. She must. Oh, this is just perfect. After the mess this last weekend was this is exactly what I needed."

"Hence why I was trying to get her to leave," Sherlock said slipping his pajama bottoms on.

"Well it's not like you guys were exactly being quiet!" Molly said angrily climbing into bed.

"Forget it," She said angrily, "We'll deal with it in the morning. I can't handle this right now."

Sherlock remained silent and climbed into bed as well, turning the light off.


	15. Chapter 15

Molly slept horribly that night and was wide awake as soon as the sun started creeping through the curtains. She heard movement in the flat and figured that Irene woman must have been awake as well, so she got up, threw a robe on over her pajamas, brushed her teeth and hair, then headed out into the kitchen.

"Good morning," Irene said cheerfully glancing at Molly. She was putting a kettle on the stove. Molly sat down in a chair and pulled her robe tighter around her shoulders.

"Morning. You don't have to make tea…I can do it-"

"Oh no, no I insist! You let me stay her last night after all. It's the least I can do," She shot a grin at Molly gave her a small one in return. Irene certainly looked different without her hair up and all her makeup on. She was still very pretty, just in a different, more natural way. Molly hated to admit it to herself, but she was very jealous of this woman she had just met. She felt a bit uncomfortable with her hanging around in her pajamas making tea for her. A little thought in the back of her mind told her she was here to try to win Sherlock back or something similar and it made her feel angry and bitter. But she decided to keep her cool and play nice until she could figure out her motives.

"Sooo…where are you from?" Molly tried to make small talk as Irene sat at the table across from her.

"Belgravia. Eaton Square to be precise."

Molly stared at her, blown away.

" _The_ Eaton Square? Where all the rich people live?" Her mouth slightly agape in disbelief.

"That's the one. At least…that's where I used to live…" She looked down slightly, obviously bitter about something.

"Well where do you live now?" Molly pressed on.

"Oh, I move around quite frequently. Can't stay in one place too long or terrorist groups bent on revenge find me and try to kill me. You know how it is," She laughed.

"T-terrorist groups?" Molly's eyes widening.

"Yes, trying to kill me, that's what I said."

"But…why would so many people be after you?"

Irene stared at the table and Molly saw a sly grin creep up on her face as though she were remembering something she shouldn't share.

"I misbehave," She said meeting Molly's eyes again and staring at her intensely. It made Molly uncomfortable and she looked away.

"Enough about me though…I want to know more about you. Sherlock has talked about you but not in detail. I know you're a pathologist at the hospital he frequents and that's how you met. I also know you had a massive crush on him for years and you left your boyfriend of what three years to be with him?"

"Closer to two years…and he was cheating on me so don't think he's innocent either," Molly stayed staring at a place on the table. This was not a subject she felt comfortable discussing with a stranger.

"Can I ask a somewhat private question? Strictly girl to girl?" She didn't wait for Molly's reply, "How did he seduce you? Was he all romantic and mushy, bringing you flowers and candy, texting 'I miss you' to you every evening? Come on, give me some gossip!" Molly looked incredulously at her, she had her hands folded in front of her on the table, her eyes focused so hard on Molly she could almost feel the intensity. She wriggled uncomfortably in her chair thinking about how Sherlock had 'seduced' her. Just then, the whistle from the kettle started screaming and Molly jumped up to fix them their tea, using it as an excuse not to talk. As she made their cups, Irene continued on.

"I bet he wasn't mushy at all…I bet he's the kind that just takes what he wants isn't he?" Molly's hands started shaking, she was so uncomfortable and nervous. Irene stood and talked softly into Molly's ear.

"And a soft, pretty thing like you, who could resist?"

Molly dropped her mug on the floor where it shattered, splashing tea everywhere.

"Oh…um…sorry I'll just clean that up. Let me get a towel…" And she quickly escaped to the bathroom, closing the door and locking herself in there.

Sherlock had awoken to the kettle whistling and had been dressing when Molly ran into the bathroom. He quickly peeked out and saw Irene picking up pieces of ceramic off the floor with a grin on her face.

"What have you said to her?" He asked immediately defensive.

"I was only trying to find out more about her is all…" Irene looked up at him with a playful glint in her eyes.

"Why are you here? Seriously?" He asked, giving her a dirty look, walking towards the bathroom. He knocked gently.

"Just a second," She called out.

"You can come out, Molly, I'm awake now." Sherlock said, "I won't be leaving you two alone again…trust me." He glanced back at Irene who was sitting there with a sly grin on her face. Sherlock rolled his eyes at her.

"I'm fine Sherlock just…give me a moment please."

Sherlock walked away from the door and into the kitchen area and sat as Irene poured his tea. When she was close, he mumbled very lowly to her.

"I don't want to hear any talk that's going to make her uncomfortable again, I know that's what you did."

"Only a little…" She said.

"Besides," She went to pull another cup from the cabinet, "I think she's cute."

"Well stop it. She's already in a vulnerable state as it is."

"Seems to me that she's a very emotional person to begin with. I must say, I did not see you ending up with someone so caring. But then again they say opposites attract…"

Molly came back out with a hand towel and wiped up the tea from the floor silently. Then before they knew it, they were all sitting at the table enjoying their morning tea in silence. Sherlock was reading the paper, Molly sitting in silence by his side, and Irene sitting across from the two of them not seeming to want to take her eyes off them.

"So! What's on the agenda today?" Irene said loudly and leaned back in her seat.

"Id say first on the list should be getting you back to wherever you came from," Sherlock said not lifting his eyes away from the paper.

Molly silently agreed with him.

"No. Can't do that. I don't fly on days too close together. Easier to trace that way."

"Then perhaps I should call my brother and let him know you're in need of a ride? He would put you somewhere safe and hidden…locked away…never to see daylight again…"

"Sherlock," Molly nudged his arm trying to make him stop.

"Oh, it's fine, dear. I deserve it. Honestly, I may be safer that way now you mention it. But would _you_ really want me locked up, Sherlock?"

"Of course not," He flipped the page on the paper. Molly looked suspiciously at him.

"I'd never hear the end of it from Mycroft that I lied about keeping your secret."

Irene chuckled.

"Keeping what secret?" Molly butted in.

"You don't tell her much do you?" Irene said taking a sip of tea. Sherlock still refused to look away from the paper.

"She should have figured it out by now. She did see your dead body after all."

"Me?" Molly said looking around at the both of them, "How could I have seen her dead body when she's sitting right-"And then she stopped and realization came over her face.

"I knew you looked familiar! I did see you! Dead on Christmas night a couple years ago! Sherlock came to identify your body and he recognized you even though your face was…pretty messed up. But it wasn't you was it? You know, Sherlock pulled a similar stunt not too long ago…how many innocent people have died for you guys to do this? How many families wonder where their missing child or sibling are and have to live with not knowing every day because of it?"

"Whoa there sweetheart…the body double for me was already dead, simply in another morgue in France, it cost me a pretty sum to transfer her here then back home and pay for her funeral," Irene said.

"And let's not forget the man we used had tortured children so they would be afraid of me," Sherlock inserted.

"So, was it really that bad?" Irene asked Molly.

"I…I guess not," She slumped back down in her chair again.

"Though I do appreciate the passion I just saw…" Irene said, "Does she get like this often, Sherlock?"

"Only when she needs to," He said and secretly winked at Molly behind the paper. She gave him a weird look.

"So why did you need to fake your death then?" Molly asked her.

"Well that's a bit of a long story…see James Moriarty-"  
"Jim!? She knew Jim as well?!" She practically yelled Sherlock.

Sherlock looked at Irene who looked stunned that Molly had spoken up.

"By the way, Molly dated him for a short time. He used her to get to me. Sort of puzzle thing he was doing I guess."

"And a great kisser," Molly chimed in quickly. Sherlock stared at her with a funny look on his face, Irene stared but then seemed utterly amused.

"Sorry…trying to fit in…"

Irene spoke again, "Anyway…long story short I got in over my head, had information I didn't know what to do with, Sherlock figured it out thinking he was helping when in fact he was giving information to Moriarty who in turn was selling it to terrorist groups and messed up this big plan Mycroft had." She paused a moment, "Then Sherlock figured out the password to my phone, by the way never let him hold your phone, I quite literally had to beat him to get it back, and all the 'blackmail' as people like to call it, that I had saved for years and years is suddenly invalid. So, there I was, no protection, thrown out into the world to be kidnapped, which did eventually happen, actually much sooner than I had anticipated, and just as I was about to be beheaded for my blackmail…" She stopped and smiled fondly, glancing at Sherlock.

"Sherlock appeared out of nowhere, fought numerous men off so I could get away, and helped me get to America safely."

Molly sat in shock for a moment. This was a lot to process at once.

"OK," She said slowly, "I get it…you basically blackmail people to make money-"

"Oh, it's not all about the money," She grinned at Molly who gave her a confused look.

"And it's also not blackmail. It's simply me keeping certain photos and information locked away to get what I want."

"That sounds like blackmail," Molly said still not convinced.

"It's only blackmail if you threaten people to spread said photos and information. Which I didn't. I simply had them on my phone and people knew if they wanted to keep me on their good side, they would give me what I wanted."

"It's blackmail," Sherlock said quickly putting his paper down finally. Irene gave a half smile and stared at him while obviously directing the next question at Molly.

"Would you like to know how I would get these photos?"

"Okay, that's enough bonding for one morning. Lets all get dressed and…I don't know…do something. Anything but this." He stood and grabbed Molly's hand, pulling her firmly towards the bedroom.


	16. Chapter 16

Sherlock sat on the side of the bed with his head in his hands rubbing his temples. Molly was getting dressed and talking non-stop about all the weird information she had taken in over the last half an hour.

"I just can't believe you were that involved with someone, this crazy woman non the less! You, of all people! I've only known her a day and I can tell you, Sherlock, she's manipulative! I don't know how she got all these pictures and information and I'm not sure I want to know! All I can tell is that she's dangerous, and you know it. That's why you don't want her here and…" She stopped talking and stared at Sherlock for a moment.

"She has blackmail on you, doesn't she?"

"What? No, Molly, Stop," He stood and grabbed her by her shoulders, "Just stop." He looked her in the eyes.

"You're jealous, I get it. But believe me when I say, there's nothing to worry about. We never had anything. She had a crush on me, I never returned the feelings, I saved her out of respect for her. She's manipulative, you're right about that. But have you ever known me to be manipulated by anyone?"

She stared at him looking for a hint that he wasn't being honest.

"No…I guess not."

"No. Exactly. So, stop being paranoid. Just wait this out, I'll get her out of here as soon as I can, but I don't want her needlessly killed. Despite my sociopathic tendencies, I really do value human life."

Molly placed her hands up on his arms and stared at his face a moment longer. She couldn't believe, even after all this time, he still wanted her.

"Ok. Ok fine. You don't like her…I'm just being crazy," She shook her head smiling. Sherlock pulled her into his arms and held her tightly.

"You're not crazy, Molly, you're afraid of being rejected and alone. I promise I'll never, ever do that to you as long as I'm alive." He softly kissed the top of her head. She closed her eyes and slowly inhaled his scent, letting it calm her and ease her mind.

"You know…" Sherlock started, "It's been awhile since we've-"

"Sherlock, we can't…" She cut him off. But he put his hands around her jaw and brought her face up to kiss her deeply. And just like that she turned into butter in his hands. He continued to kiss her, slowly pushing her backwards until they reached the bed. Molly laid back on the covers pulling Sherlock with her, desperate for more of him.

"I don't know why you argue with me," Sherlock said in a low growl, "You know I always win."

"I can't give myself up that easily," She teased starting to unbutton his shirt.

There was a sudden bang in the kitchen followed by a yell.

"I'm ready! Let's go love birds!"

Sherlock hung his head and laughed.

"We'll finish this later," He said climbing off her and buttoning his shirt back up.

"Promises, promises," She said frustratedly, jumping off the bed and pulling a jacket on.

She walked out of the room fixing her hair.

"Oh, I'm sorry…have I interrupted something?" Irene immediately observed.

Molly sighed, "Great, now I have two Sherlocks in the house to deal with…" she walked past her to get her shoes on.

"If you need any advice, feel free to ask," Irene called after her. Molly looked at her uncomfortably.

"Why on earth would you say that?" She couldn't help but say before she could stop herself.

"Because-" But she was loudly interrupted.

"Ok that's enough of that, Irene where would you like to go since you're our guest you choose. Keep in mind if you're seen by anyone of importance you will be going to jail or murdered on the spot so…no pressure!" He clapped his hands together and gave a big fake smile. Molly held back a laugh.

"No need to be such a Debi downer, Sherlock…I know if I'm seen there will be trouble. Which is why I'm thinking we can go see a movie!"

Sherlock stared at her a moment then sighed, rubbing his neck.

"A movie…yes, fine, a movie will do. At least it will be dark, and I won't have to talk." He walked towards the door, the girls following close behind.

The day went by surprisingly uneventfully and Irene and Molly seemed to be getting along a bit better much to Sherlock's dismay. He had to admit to himself it was nice to see Irene and know that she was safe and doing well. He just didn't want her to mess up the one good relationship he had ever had in his life. He was afraid Magnussen had put her up to just that. They were walking back towards Baker street from a small café they had just eaten at after a long day out on the town. The two girls were walking slowly behind him while he tried to hurry them along and get back home.

"No seriously," He heard Irene say laughing, "Did you guys ever do anything more?"

"With Jim!? God no, we only dated a few weeks and only saw each other at work. It was hard enough getting him to kiss me!" Molly said in a loud whisper. They were obviously trying not to let Sherlock hear their conversation but were failing.

"Well let me just tell you, if you would have gotten a bit further I think you would have been pleasantly surprised-"

Sherlock interjected, "I can hear everything you're saying you know!" He heard them laugh quietly behind him. He rolled his eyes and walked a bit quicker.

Irene said much quieter staring after him, "I'm impressed with you, I have to say. I tried for weeks to get his affection and nothing. I was starting to think he was a robot. How did you do it?"

Molly grinned and shrugged her shoulders looking down at the sidewalk speaking softly, "I honestly don't know. He knew I had a crush on him for the longest time. I was ignored for years and then it was like turning a light switch on and suddenly he wouldn't leave me alone. It was a bit intimidating, as you know he can be a bit…intense." She laughed nervously. She noticed Irene staring at her for a moment.

"I can see why he focused on you," She said.

"What do you mean?" Molly looked at her confused.

"You're everything he's not, you know? You're his opposite. Soft, emotional, compassionate…it's no wonder he likes you. I think him and I were too much alike to ever become something. But you? You have something special I can tell."

Molly blushed grinning. Maybe she did like this woman after all.

"So, what do you do for a living when you're not blackmailing people?" She said casually.

Irene smiled and stared straight ahead, "I don't think you would understand if I told you."

"Why not?" Molly said slightly offended.

"Most people don't. Let's just say I cater to a certain kind of fetish."

That took Molly by surprise, "Did you say fetish?" Irene simply smiled and kept walking.

"Like…like a," She lowered her voice so she could barely be heard, "sex fetish?" She blushed a bit.

Irene looked at her, "You are adorable…yes a sex fetish. But I've been told by a certain someone," She glanced at Sherlock, "Not to disclose any more information about my career so I mustn't say anything else…" She stuck her nose up jokingly in the air and folded her arms.

"Oh…ok well-"

"Ok fine you convinced me…" Irene got close to Molly and looped her arm around hers. Molly was a bit confused and startled by this.

"I imagine you aren't very experienced in the world of sex and fetishes, so I'll try to make this simple. Some people like being…" She thought a moment, "Dominated. And some people are willing to pay good money to have that done to them."

"People pay money for that?" Molly looked incredulously.

"Oh, lots of money. Its how I've made my way in the world since I was a young woman. Of course, I didn't start right out becoming a dom, I worked my way up to it and once I found out how fun it was…I just stuck with it." She looked at Molly.

"You're a pathologist, right?"

"Yes," Molly said simply.

"…do you like your job?"

"Of course! I have some bad days but overall it's very rewarding."

Irene slowly nodded, a smirk on her face.

"Why do you ask?" Molly said confused.

"You would just make a good submissive play toy, that's all. People would pay good money for a girl like you."

Molly didn't know how to take that and stayed silent, thankful it was dark so Irene couldn't see how red her face was.

"I'm…just gonna go walk with Sherlock now. I think he feels left out," She pulled away from Irene and trotted up to catch up to Sherlocks long strides. She grabbed his hand and held it tightly. He glanced down at her and she gave him a quick smile so as not to worry him.

"Had enough conversation?" He asked quietly.

"More than enough," She replied. They walked the rest of the way home hand in hand with Irene in tow, grinning at them.


End file.
